Boston
by Xeen Cyr
Summary: It's a long way to Broadway even if you're Derek Wills and that you found your star.
1. Prologue

_I don't even want to think of the GINORMOUS hiatus ahead of us. Here's a little something to fill the void. I'm not even sure where I'm going with it, so please be gentle._

_Obviously, I don't own Smash._

**PROLOGUE**

He wakes up with a jolt. It's still dark but the full moon gives a bright spectral atmosphere to the generic room.

_Where in the… Boston. I'm in Boston._

The show is finally going somewhere. He has his star and he's off the hook with Eileen. His eyes linger on an earring glistening on the carpeted floor, a golden sandal, a strappy cocktail dress with cherry prints, black and white under the glow. Bread crumbs, he thinks, wiping his forehead with his right hand.

He tries to lean on one elbow to check his phone on the nightstand but his left arm is numb and stuck under somebody's back. It's all coming back at once.

_Bummer._

With a frown, he glances at the woman asleep beside him and sighs, lying back down. He doesn't even know why he took her back to his room. He's not usually into brunettes but for some reason he felt irresistibly drawn to her. And still, there is something amiss now. Her silky hair is spread on the pillow and a smile of content graces her regular face. He gently pushes away a strand of hair from her eye. Her make up is all smudged but she still looks beautiful and extremely young in her sleep. He doesn't mind about the age difference though. He never had. They hit instantly and the sex was spectacular. She didn't seem to have second thoughts about leaving the party with him. It only went down to one conclusion. Being an intimidating celebrity has its perks.

He collects his clothes, silently leaves the room, takes a shower. He lets the tepid water run on his face for a long time but it doesn't wash his personal ghosts down the drain. When he's finished, one can barely see through the steam. No shaving, some hair gel, fresh clothes. He wipes the mirror and his reflection prompts him to look away.

Now he stands still before the bay window facing the Charles River. Restless, he opens the mini-bar but decides against infusing his body with more stimulants. His present alcohol level must be appalling. He slouches on the couch, troubled to feel both insecure and unsatisfied. It was a mistake. He should never have brought her back to his hotel. He revives his laptop and gets engulfed in his work, absently biting his nails.

"Hello?" The first image is a pair of endless legs walking towards him. He's expecting to see her in his shirt or wrapped in the sheet but she has her clothes on. She's smiling.

"Sorry, did I wake you?"

"You kinda did," she drawls, "I wasn't planning on falling asleep in your bed."

He smiles back, politely. "I'll call a taxi…" he sits his work on the coffee table and stands up, "… darling."

"Julia," she volunteers.

"Julia." The journalist combs her hair with her fingers while he dials the cab company. "Five minutes," he says.

"Well, see you around… I guess." She waves a manicured hand in his general direction. She doesn't want to put a name on his face. She's no more interested than he is in an encore or in dragging on the moment.

"Of course," he says. She's gone.

It's been a long night. It's going to be a long day. The blocking needs work, the songs need work, his star needs… well, she needs his attention. With two weeks and a half ahead of them in Boston, he's confident they can reach a satisfying compromise.

It's not even dawn. He grabs his coat and gathers the documents he had been working on for the last couple hours and heads to the theatre anyway.

*_Thoughts?*_


	2. Perfection

Thanks guys for the alerts and everything. That was unexpected ^^

Why don't I own Smash?

**1. Perfection**

Derek Wills is obsessed with perfection; it makes him good at his job but sets high standards for him as it does for everyone. They suffer or resent him: irrelevant. Performers are pawns in his vision, and mere pawns can have no feelings and certainly no bearings in his creation. He never departs from this cardinal principle. He rules, they obey. From the chorus boy to the producers, their sole task is limited to complying and being perfect.

His well-ordered, unsurprising and efficient world began to crack at the seams the moment the Cartwright girl challenged him. That someone should raise objections during Wills' rehearsals was unheard of in the business. Flabbergasted by her naïve arrogance, he paused long enough to hear the deafening silence in the studio. The ensemble stopped breathing in unison waiting for the Dark Lord to give her the coup de grâce.

Despite his strong ego, -and common knowledge, he could actually live with being called into question in front of a cast. That a newbie conveyed her potential in such a disturbing manner, he would deal with it later, because she had motive: perfection, and because for a short moment, it was like being struck by lightning. However, if he could live with the realisation that he had been wrong not to impose Karen for the part, hallucinations started to torment him at the least expected times.

He spent entire days fantasizing what it would be like if she were there in front of him instead of the ever professional Ivy. He changed the choreography in the distant prospect of replacing her by her supposed rival. They were not playing in the same league. Ivy could sing but she was not up to par with the dancing. He watched her perform the last number of the day. She was so tense that her face was a mask. He sat back, his mouth twitching, almost glad that she was failing. She took it for praise. Good for her. He still needed her to nail the blocking.

Derek was bored. He knew he should have followed his gut feelings. He had made no mystery that he was looking for a way out from "My Fair Lady". Eileen was very persuasive but to be quite honest, he had never been very fond of Jerry and four years working on a show that has not yet made it to the stage was enough in his book. The smart move should have been to pick up the laurels for his well-earned work and then to ditch Eliza Doolittle and its producer after the première instead of rushing headway into that Marilyn nightmare. That was his first mistake. But who could pass the chance of directing a successful Marilyn musical? The name of the iconic actress would look good on his résumé.

Yielding and letting Ivy be the lead, that was his second mistake. He did not care that just about everyone and their dog were convinced she was given the part because they were sleeping together. Derek made no mystery that he was a women's man. Ivy was a Broadway veteran, she had talent and a great voice, and no one could dispute that. Unfortunately for the wannabe star, her personal insecurities, and probably her famous mother, had kept her from realising her full potential. Hence, she was still a chorus girl until she landed the part in "Bombshell". She did everything she was asked to get the part, including playing dirty when she could.

Somehow, Derek got lost and the sleeping together part turned into something more domestic he was not used to, an affair. Derek was a professional insomniac. His life was simple. 15 hours work on 4 hours sleep. He balanced the rest between restaurants, women, taxis and the occasional gym. With Ivy interfering in his work because she "wanted to help", he began to feel like a deranged clock. He knew his focus had shifted somewhere along the way and that he had willingly let it happen. Ivy was perfect on paper, except that Karen was born to play Marilyn. And it was disturbing enough for an egotistic, brilliant director to be proven wrong every day without Ivy playing mentor.

Yet, they were still eons away from putting the show on a stage, so it was a mistake he could still live with for some time as long as he could keep Karen safe. Ivy's antics during a performance of "Heaven on Earth" unexpectedly got him of the hook. In Wills' world, problems often had a miraculous way of solving themselves. With Ivy gone, he made up for lost time, modelling the naïve performer as fast as his expertise and her abilities made it possible.

With carefully concealed glee, he was turning more and more every day into a modern version of Henry Higgins when Rebecca Duvall was forced deep into his throat. Time suddenly became a rare commodity. Because he had no doubt that the actress would not go the distance, he even contemplated for an instant calling Ivy back. It would at least solve one problem: keeping the show alive. Duvall might eventually realize on her own that she was indeed pathetic when it came to singing. She could masquerade into anything because she was a seasoned actress and a perfectionist, but she was not stupid. She looked nothing like Marilyn, she was about a decade too old for the part, and, for the love of God, she could neither dance nor sing. No coach in this world would ever succeed in making her a Broadway star, unless the audience went suddenly blind or deaf or both. She was up to her eyeballs in deep trouble, anyone could see that as much as she could. She was drowning and sinking the show in the process.

Realisation had dawned upon him that she was as obsessed as he was. Unfortunately for Tom, Julia, Eileen and "Bombshell", her ego was even larger than his own. She would probably throw in the towel once it was too late, leaving them to deal with the mess.

And now THAT.

Duvall woke up with her mind set on wanting the Cartwright girl gone. On a whim. Why, he had not a single clue. She was a brunette, she was a nobody, and no threat to the worshiped Hollywood diva. She was just the understudy, for Christ's sake! Rebecca seemed to have taken a fancy to her during the last couples of weeks, dragging her along like a new pet, and now, she was adamant to dump her. He had heard through the grapevine that she met with Dev. That was the only thing he could think of that would dampen their so-called burgeoning friendship. The strange association of the tender Iowa with that douche was certainly reason enough to throw the baby out with the bathwater.

At this point, Karen would spend her days idling in the studio, since the star had insisted to be front and centre in every rehearsal for the past weeks. The fact that she kept changing the musical every other night with Eileen's blind acceptance was a different matter entirely. Nobody could keep up, not even the great Derek Wills. She was rapidly becoming a direct threat. Despite the fact that Julia and Tom had torn the play apart, adding more lines and taking away more music, transforming "Bombshell" into a monster and a disaster waiting to happen, it was never enough. Short of turning the show into a mimic of a lost Arthur Miller's play, she wanted Karen's head and next, it would be Ivy's.

Eileen had been in the business long enough to be aware that the movie star might keep investors happy for the time being and the money steadily pouring in but it was only a smoke screen. At some point, they would figure out Duvall would never be able to pull it out, even with years of rehearsals and elaborate stratagems. She did not have this kind of talent.

Broadway was special. The directors knew it, the performers knew it and the audience knew it. After Duvall was trashed in the New York Time or else, she would run back to the studios to lick her wounds like so many before her.

He had turned the problem in his head, but he could no longer ignore the big picture. Nothing added up. "Bombshell" was not film material and Duvall was not Broadway material. So he did what he knew best to get her off his back, so to speak. His reputation of bedding all his leading ladies preceding him, he tried this angle. Unfortunately for him and for the production, neither pillow talk nor his talents succeeded in luring her away from her current goal: to add Broadway to her pedigree. And he simply did not have time for this charade.

Tom, as nice as he was, was on the verge of eviscerating her. Julia, unable to keep her personal life at bay, had been a no-show for days. The ensemble was bored. Eileen would not even return his calls. Maybe if Ellis was not always in the way. In a perfect world, Rebecca and Ellis would just disappear into thin air and be forgotten instantly.

A familiar ringtone shook him out of his silent soliloquy. Once more, in the World of Derek, problems had solved themselves. Rebecca had a near death experience and an epiphany. She will not be back.

That was excellent news. The enticing vision of Karen wearing a modest mauve dress appeared in front of his eyes. He paused, savouring the moment. They had one day and a half left before going back in front of the Boston audience.

"Linda!" he yelled. The ensemble stopped frolicking and Linda turned to him with a placid face. "I need the costumes for American Pastime." Then his eyes locked on Karen's. She seemed even more disconcerted than the rest of the company. "Where is Karen Cartwright?" he spat, sitting back down and skimming through his notes. "Now!"

Duvall had left him with no time to prep a new Marilyn, no real understudy, and a scorned yet needy talented ex-girlfriend. In the end, he knew Karen was the right choice for the part. Yes, she was green, yes, she was naïve and probably far too nice towards people who were simply taking advantage of her or taking her for granted, like her posh boyfriend. Why did he hold back his blows when he had the chance to teach him a lesson? That little sod had been ruining the workshop, the tech and he had been hovering over Karen like a hawk since day one. His little stunt at the bar left little room for imagination. He was the jealous type. He knew for a fact that he was also the violent type. In less time than it takes to say "cricket", he will probably be the cheating type. Fortunately, Derek will be right here. There was nothing like Broadway to heal a broken heart.

"Oh, for crying out loud, are you asleep?" he smirked. Karen jumped like a scolded puppy and he took no pleasure in watching her eyes well up. "When you're ready, anytime now," he added with a scorn.

_*Shall I continue?*_


	3. Preview

Once again thank you guys for the great feedback!

**PREVIEW**

He enters the theatre with his usual flourish and throws his coat on his seat, sitting a pile of notes on the small desk that has been his life for the past days. The rehearsal without Duvall went well the day before, considering. Tonight, the show will be a smash, if only they could decide on their Marilyn. Without even slowing down, he walks to the stage to meet with his partners.

Julia is restless, Tom seems on the verge of imploding and there is an uncanny calm about Eileen that does not bode well. He braces himself for the inevitable confrontation. Crossing his arms on his chest in an unconscious defensive posture, he lets them talk and talk and talk some more. It is obvious they are not going anywhere. They pile problems on top of the others, avoiding the elephant on the stage. There are money concerns, the libretto is in limbo and the critics, -well the critics, now is definitely not a good time to take that road. He listens for a long time. The three of them are making quite a perfect job at taking dead ends without his help. In spite of the crying, the yelling, the tantrums, the begging, they do not come close to addressing the main problem, the sole problem: they need a star. When Julia finally nails it, the other two are so enthralled in their bargaining that they do not even care.

He could have sworn that he was set on keeping his cool, but when they actually begin to question his artistic direction, there is only so much he can take. Storming out stage right, he tries to intellectualize his choices but his brain is numb. He needs an infusion of something strong to wake up his crocodile brain. He has to trust his instincts, something he decided against months ago, he ponders, rushing through the theatre, thanks to the three people he has just left hanging on the stage. That is not much of a decision, really. He can see Marilyn in his head. He has from day one and yet, repeatedly rejected it.

Why? He has no idea. That is not true, you weasel. You know perfectly well why you fight so hard against it. She resisted you and you loved it. It was… cute? Bold? Unexpected? She is not a player. She is sincere, faithful. She has a boyfriend, she thinks she found her better half. She is not even jealous that you slept with Ivy and Rebecca. She has a big crush on you, anyone can see that, but she won't yield. How noble. Or maybe, she will, given the right circumstances. Time will tell.

He stops in front of the dresses loosely swaying on the hanger and begins rummaging through the fabric. He needs to confirm the vision that's playing tricks with his mind. He gives his full attention to the various dresses, skimming rapidly through the images stocked in his head. Nine hours. He has nine hours. Plenty of time. Ivy knows the part. She has been mingling with his work for weeks. She is experienced but he never pictured her as "his" Marilyn. Her round figure, her broad shoulders, there is something about her that simply doesn't add up. Her voice is extraordinary, probably more suited for the stage, still, she does not fit the bill.

On the other hand, he has kept Karen in the loop with the songs and numbers. That is not really usually asked of an understudy before the previews, but Derek likes to have all his bases covered, especially since he has an ulterior motive.

"Where is Karen Cartwright?"

As soon as the rehearsal began, Karen found her legs and really came into her own. For the first time in weeks, months, Derek was enjoying what he saw. It was not perfect, but it worked. He was on his best behaviour and gave her enough space to be creative. He knew she could not be rushed.

Now that the show was over, he praised the unfaithful boyfriend for his not so gentle nudge. The man was a despicable imbecile but his timing was perfect. Poor vindictive Karen nursing a broken heart was more talented than wide doe eyed Karen with her heart on her sleeve.

"Whatever happens next, don't ever doubt, you're a star." His signature speech for every young actress he had taken under his wing over the years. For once, it felt real. She faltered under his touch, the same way she had so many times before and he found it charming. She was not doing anything but yet she managed to get under his skin. "And I do understand love." The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. She was back under the spotlights, delivering a very nice rendering of the last minute song Tom and Julia had come up with. It needed work, he thought, but that would do… for Boston.

After the last applause, after the crowd had vacated the theatre, he went back onto the stage. He sat down on the wide satin bed, his hand smoothing the crumpled sheet. The confused noise of the ensemble celebrating their first small victory in the dressing room was echoing in the flies. The second preview was only the beginning of their going to Broadway and he had no doubt that the road will be excessively painful. Some would quit. New faces would join their journey for an elusive five minutes of fame. He sighed and let his head drop to his chest. He was not in the mood for celebrating but he knew he had to join them at some point if only to share their first victory. They were expecting he would come. He suddenly felt exhausted and… old? That is new.

What is…

His eyes darted to the darkness of the empty house. "Who's still in there for God's sake!"

A soft voice answered hastily. "It's me… Karen."

Feigning indifference, he stood up, trying to locate her. "Ms Cartwright," he mused, "why aren't you with the rest of them? No one told you it is your big night? It was sort of implied, really."

"I… I don't feel like it. I mean… I'd rather be alone."

"And yet, you're here with me."

"I didn't expect anyone would be here," she protested.

How refreshing, he thought, a girl who speaks her mind. "You do know that they will close the theatre eventually. I bet that you don't want to be trapped in here… alone." He heard some rustle and finally spotted her, gliding in his direction. Her Marilyn sequined dress was clinging to her slim body. "I don't want to pry but where is that boyfriend of yours? Shouldn't he be there tonight, covering you with roses?" She missed a step and gave him a defiant glance. "You're right. It's not my place."

She was five feet away across from him now, her eyes glistening of unshed tears. Her mouth twitched. "No, it's not but I can't expect you to understand, can I?"

"On the contrary, darling, I understand everything to a T. Or should I say to an O?"

She mouth twitched. "You're so mean."

"Oh am I now?" he protested with feigned outraged dignity. "I am the director but I can see, and I can hear darling. You weren't exactly a model of discretion today."

"I'm sorry, I…"

"Your boyfriend kiss-raped you in front of me to prove a point," he interrupted, "I have no qualms about treating him the way he deserves. I have nothing but contempt for his lot."

"Is it supposed to make me feel better?"

"No, it is Derek Wills having a conversation with someone who seems to forget she has to go to a party." He held out his hand to help her on the stage but she recoiled. "Come on. You need to wash your face and change your clothes. They're waiting for you."


	4. Party

**Thanks you all for the great beedback and favoriting/alerts etc... Sorry it took me so long to update ^^  
**

**Obviously, Smash doesn't belong to me  
**

**3. PARTY**

He was drunk. He hated being drunk. He hated this helplessness. He hated a composer who could drink the night away, but still managed to laugh and to be nice to everyone and to play the piano at the same time. He hated…

"You okay?" A soft voice interrupted his self-deprecating stance. His eyes dropped on a huge couture ring. He looked up and focused on the face. Her wide doe eyes were uncertain and dozy. She stumbled against his seat and leaned heavily onto him before crashing down by his side, hugging her studded bag for dear life. "I had too much to drink," she smiled goofily.

She looked much younger in the same Misfits dress she had for her audition than in her sequined sheath dress. He resisted reaching out to her. The sight of her bare shoulder was tantalizing. "Is that a fact," he stuttered instead.

She giggled. "You have too. I can see."

"Oh, you can, really, you're such an expert now," he spat.

She tensed. Her tongue stuck out of her mouth and she licked her upper teeth, looking disoriented and hurt. She was struggling to get up now but he stopped her, catching her arm before she could succeed. "I'm sorry, you're right. I'm smashed and I'm afraid it doesn't do justice to my usual charming self."

A roar of laughter erupting from the other side of the bar momentarily silenced him. Tom was playing some old Cole Porter standards and the ensemble was having a blast.

"I wanted to thank you," she finally said, "for being a friend today." Being a friend? It did not looked like it this afternoon when he had sent Dev packing. But she probably didn't know that, yet. She patted his hand in a childish gesture. "I needed someone and you were there for me, so I wanted to say thank you," she said again, her big brown eyes sparkling.

"What about Jessica and Bobby and the gang?"

"They don't know."

"As a matter of fact, I don't either, and I don't care."

She looked unsettled. "Yes, I mean no, you don't, but… I don't know," she said, fighting to get her thoughts in order, her hands fiddling with the strap of her bag, "you…" she gasped for air and stopped, searching her words. She stared into a middle distance and sagged even more on the chair.

"I am the director, I did what needed to be done to have my star back." He kept the slur, but the effects of alcohol were rapidly wearing off.

"I want to apologize for being such a pain," she gave him a quick glance before looking away, unable to meet his eyes, "You could have picked Ivy, I know the others wanted her," she waved at the general crowd on the opposite side of the bar, "I heard Eileen. She wanted me gone but you stood up for me. Why?" Only then she turned towards him, waiting for an answer.

"And what makes you think they could have changed my mind?" he said, not denying it.

She shrugged. "I know. Once you've got your mind set on something, you won't budge."

A smile reached his eyes. There was not much he could add.

"Would you tell me then?", she insisted again.

"Oh for Christ's sake! I chose you. Aren't you happy?"

"Yes, I am, but…"

"You're not going to let it go, are you? Stand up for yourself Karen, you must be tougher than that now! You are the toast of the town, you should be over the moon tonight, and still, you're moping on what could have been in lieu of enjoying the moment."

"Please, don't, I don't want to get into a fight. Not with you." Her eyelashes fluttered and she gave him the most adorable smile he had seen in a long time. "I'm happy," she nodded enthusiastically. She lost her balance and grabbed his sleeve.

"You look happy indeed, stooped on this uncomfortable chair… with me." He sat back, staring at her. "People will talk, you know," he said slyly.

"They will, no matter what I do," she inhaled sharply and shivered. "I… I don't understand," she said so low he barely heard her. "Ivy should have had the part," she added stubbornly.

"Oh, please, not this again," he winced. "What is it? Are you afraid I chose you for the wrong reasons? That I am trying to lure you into my bed, again? I thought we were past that embarrassment." As soon as he finished the sentence, he knew he was not on the right track. He shook his head. "It's the easiest thing in the world, really, darling, I don't see her," he said gently.

"Huh?"

"God, Karen, I don't see her as Marilyn, I see you," he said in the calmest voice he could muster. "I see you."

"Oh…" she said in a whisper. She moved about on her seat. "Dev slept with her, you know," she said after a pause. She shrugged and bit her lip. "We… I broke up with him."

"Is there a point to this conversation?" he said in a detached voice. She was to drunk to notice.

"They wanted to hurt us," she blurted out. "To hurt me, I mean."

Hiding a smile, he took his hand. She looked up and froze. "Ms Cartwright, I think it's now officially time for you to go to bed, unless you're ready to discuss your love life with me. But be aware that you could remember we had this conversation tomorrow."

"You mean you knew?"

He sighed. She was really drunk, too drunk for her usual scared dove routine. "I had a general idea. I saw you flash the ring. I heard the commotion. It wasn't hard to connect the dots especially after your strip-tease and your little melt down."

"No, what I meant is you knew about Ivy?" she insisted.

That was his time to frown. "Ivy?"

"Yes, Ivy, your girlfriend…"

"Oh God, Karen, this is the theatre. We slept together, it doesn't make her my girlfriend. She's a big girl. She knows what she's doing."

"Did I get the part because she slept with Dev?"

"What? I think you're too drunk for your own good. But you're a ravishing drunk. And I gave you the part because it was the right thing to do." At the time, he added in petto.

"Yep!" Her face lighted up and she grinned back. "I should go," she said, not moving, staring at their hands intertwined on his lap. Tom was butchering "Argentina" in the background and the cast was cheering loudly. They stayed in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. She was absorbed in her thoughts.

"Do you need my help to going back to the hotel," he finally asked.

She grinned genuinely. "Yes, I'd like that," she nodded enthusiastically.

"Shall we?" he stood up and helped her get back her feet.

"… but I can't."

He tilted his head, puzzled. "You cannot go back to your hotel?"

"I can't leave with you… I think you know," she said, squeezing his hand. "Good night Derek." She gave him a peck on the cheek and left without a backward glance. He watched her hug her friends. Then she hugged Tom.

"She likes you," said a voice in his back. "I can tell." He span on his heels. "Julia Wyles. I'm a journalist with the Boston Herald. Mr Wills, can we talk about "Bombshell"?"

His eyes shot to her mouth, to her dark cascading curls then to her cherry printed dress. "It would be my pleasure, Ms Wyles," he said with a bow. "What would you like to know?"

_*Please no flame!*_


	5. The Coaching Session

Thanks again guys for your incredible support!

I don't own anything Smash.

**The Coaching Session**

"Darling, I need to see everything."

Realisation sunk in and it was so painful that she almost choked at the double entendre. Is that why she had left Dev and the safe environment of her apartment, -to get cast-couched? She was aware that it was not unheard of in the business but Derek Wills was not the type. She simply could not picture him in that kind of situation. He made her feel so cheap, much cheaper than she ever felt in her entire life, even when Matt asked her to prom to get into Beth's pants. She fought against tears of anger. She should have left. She trapped herself in his bathroom instead. No good could magically come about from these unforeseen circumstances. No one could save her. Wobbling on her feet in front of the mirror and short of breath, she finally took a look of the surroundings. The place was as pristine as the rest of his soulless penthouse. The decorators had made a great job with the place and he was probably renting it furnished with every amenity she could think of. As far as she knew, a month rent could be more than one year of her own earnings. She felt the unwanted tears stinging her eyes, again. She did not feel sorry for herself, she felt sorry for him, actually. Too bad it would not get her the part but she had to teach the mighty director a lesson, if only to keep her pride and integrity intact.

She grabbed a discarded white shirt. Feverishly, she searched for a disposable razor, but could not find any. Obviously, cheap things would not possibly make their way into the designer bathroom. She finally found a hair clipper that probably cost more than a month tips and disrobed, proceeding to make unwanted body hair disappear.

She was imagining him licking his chops already, crouched on his expensive sofa, ready to jump her, the first chance he got. When she was happy with the result, she left the bathroom. A cold shiver went down her spine. She felt strong and determined and was rewarded by a predator glare.

He was aroused indeed. To her utter dismay, she could not deny that she was too. It was odd, like an out of body experience. It was a great feeling to know that she had reign over him. When she got closer, she saw tiny golden speckles in his green eyes that she had not noticed before. His heart was pounding steadily. He was waiting for her to give in. Too bad, she thought. She was expecting his hands to fall on the small of her back but he still did not move, his left arm casually resting on the back of the coach, the other one still on the armrest. That's what power is like, she thought, while she rubbed her legs against his thighs, placing her hands on his chest. Anticipation elicited a surge of excitement in her stomach. His cologne was intoxicating. She could drown in those eyes, she thought for a fleeting moment before leaning in. He smelled of scotch and expensive aftershave. "Happy birthday, Mr. President, happy birthday to you." She drew a breath when he finally tried to capture her mouth. She nuzzled up to him. It was too intimate for her own good. She closed her eyes reflexively and pulled away.

"Not gonna happen," she gave him a nudge and steadily walked back to the bathroom, his eyes boring holes in her back. When she came out, he was gentleman enough to be nowhere in sight. She slammed the door behind her without a second thought.

She punched the elevator button, hopping up and down with impatience. What was she thinking? A private session, that's what they call it now? Was she supposed to talk about it with Dev? She felt so mortified. Maybe it was best to sweep the whole thing under the proverbial rug for now. Once she's fired, she'll tell. Or not. In fact, she'd be happy to forget everything about her evening, except that she knew it was impossible. She checked her watch on her way down. Too early to go back to her trusting boyfriend. She needed a drink, but not here, she would not even afford a sugar cube in this neighbourhood.

She went back to the subway and sat for an herbal tea in a coffee shop still open near her apartment. What was she afraid of? I haven't done anything wrong, she pondered. Still, she couldn't think of a way to explain what just "not" happened to Dev. Warming her hands on the paper cup, she replayed the last couple of hours in her mind. Derek Wills was handsome, attractive, no doubt, and she had been told, a genius. And he thought she had a great voice and that she was good-looking… wait, great-looking, that's what he said. That part was nice. Yet what he did was wrong. Was she supposed to play along? It was the very first time she had had a call back after an audition. Was it because it was expected that she would have sex with him? She sighed. Maybe she was too naïve for Broadway. Maybe she should have slept with him and get it over with. Maybe…

Nothing happened. Except for the part where I straddled my director half naked while serenading him to prove my point. There was no good explanation she could think of. As far as Dev was concerned, it will remain a late coaching session. She will have to deal with the mess by herself. Tomorrow, the great Derek Wills will probably get rid of her, anyway. Or his assistant will.

The ever thoughtful Dev had left a light on and was fast asleep when she finally made it back home. She silently lay down beside him and stayed for a long time with her eyes open, staring at the ceiling. When she fell asleep, she dreamt of Derek.

"She's sleeping with him?" Even to her ears, her voice sounded too high pitched for her own good.

"I don't think they're getting that much sleep," said Sue.

He's sleeping with her… Karen felt incredulous. Worse, she felt scorned. She didn't seem to be able to keep her eyes away from Ivy. So that was it. He slept with her and gave her the part. Against her better judgment, something inside her was yelling that Derek had chosen her first. Really? Have I sunk that low? It took me only a few weeks to become as despicable as he is. Her eyes filled up with tears and she turned away from Sue and Jessica. The rehearsal was over, she didn't have to stay behind and witness Derek's display of affection. Affection? Anything but affection. That was pure evil! She grabbed her bag and rushed out.

Bobby shrugged. "Don't ask me."

"I think she has a soft spot for Derek," Jessica giggled.

"No she hasn't! She hates him!" Bobby whispered to her ear, glancing back to Ivy who was staring. He waved at her with a smile, "same difference," he chuckled.

"Poor Iowa, the Dark Lord broke her candid heart…"

Karen had her eyes locked on the digits but that didn't seem to make the elevator come any faster. Maybe it's because you can't actually read anything, she thought, tears finally rolling down her cheeks. She wiped them with rage, hitting the button with her fist several times.

"It won't work, I tried that already," said a voice with a strong British accent in her back. She turned around. "If it's any consolation," he said with a wolfish smile, "you're a great addition to the ensemble." The elevator stopped and the door hissed open. "Are you coming?"

"I… I forgot my bag," she whispered avoiding eye contact.

"So I see." The doors closed.

Great, and now she was making a complete fool of herself. She threw her bag against the wall and its content scattered all over the place. She needed to see Dev. Right now.

When Karen moved to New York, despite having her mind set on becoming the next It girl on Broadway, it did not happen over night. It didn't happen at all. She ended waitressing and doing extras for a catering company during various social events in town. That night, she was a bee, with tiny plush yellow antennas dangling on her head but the money was good and the crowd civilized. It was the best she could hope for. She could afford her rent, she was not starving and she was in New York.

She had long forgotten the prospect of even been called back after an audition and felt simply miserable.

She was carefully circling the guests, passing Champagne and expensive hors d'oeuvres when a voice stopped her. "Miss, you lost your…" He searched for the appropriate word and finally decided on "props". She turned around and met with a pair of dark burning eyes and extraordinary eyelashes and flushed. He was holding out her antennas. "Oh, thank you," she muttered. "You shouldn't have."

"Let me," he said softly, his long fingers brushing her hair. She felt the "props" back on her head and her cheeks turned pink. He had the most gentle features she'd ever seen and his voice was like velvet to her ears. "Here," he smiled. "You're all set." God, that British accent was so sexy.

"Thank you," she said again, unable to move.

"My pleasure, that's the least the deputy press secretary can do."

Four dates and two weeks later, she was moving in with Dev. They had a wonderful few months together before politics got the better of him. Their paths barely crossed now. His carreer was on the rise and her waitressing added to the pressure and long hours of the workshop made it almost impossible to synchronize their lives.

She had the feeling that the only things they had time to discuss were RJ, who ever he was, and Derek Wills. Today, of all days, he could not even make time for her, -again. She bought a bagel and an apple and went back to the studio, hoping that she won't have to meet Derek on her way up. If she were lucky, she would get fired this afternoon because of Ivy's antics and would not have to put up with this charade any longer.


	6. Don't Expect Miracles

_I don't own Smash_

Previously...

"If she were lucky, she would get fired this afternoon because of Ivy's antics and would not have to put up with this charade any longer."

**5. Don't expect miracles**

No matter what persona you mean to project, in the end people take you the way you are. She had long stopped trying to hide behind a forged façade. It was exhausting, it was pointless, and above all, it simply didn't work for her. Karen was aware that after her impromptu session at Derek's, she didn't have many cards left up her sleeve. She should have left instead of butting heads with the director.

Her little stunt had unexpected results though. For better and, it seemed, for worse, she was still part of the chorus, -strike that, the ensemble. Against all odds, she had made friends. Their revamping spree on her closet was a blessing and a curse. She had to take every shift available at the diner to keep her bank manager happy. She was not ready to be kept by someone.

Maybe it was the fact that Dev was an alien in New York as much as she was that reinforced their bond in more ways than not. They never had a fight, never argued about anything, except when it came to Derek. That was saying something. She simply couldn't let the other Brit in her life destroy her small and cosy domestic paradise.

At the end of the day, she was so tired that she would sleep on the bus on her way to the diner for her late shift. Dev wanted her to quit. He has always been really supportive of her career, way more than her parents who would be quite happy with her staying put in her home town, happily married to a doctor or a lawyer or whatever with a new addition to her family every year until the end of times.

He made her sing "Happy Birthday" for Ivy. That was supposed to be her personal victory. She knew she was convincing. She knew he fell for her deception. She expected retribution at some point. To mock her in front of the ensemble, or in front of Ivy, that was something she was not expecting. He kept me to challenge Ivy, that's what he did. But I'm not a punching-bag. I maybe a hick, but I'm stronger than he thinks.

She nailed the last phrase to perfection and locked her eyes on his. His face was inscrutable. She heard sighs of praise from her fellow colleagues and watched Ivy's back arch in discontent. This man is happy when he trashes everything. He just wants his damn show to be perfect and he uses people! He's using me as a threat to her and he knows than I know. It's his job, a small voice says in the back of her head. You have to suck it up. You can do it.

God, he's so enjoying himself, I hate him! He looks as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, but he certainly knows what he's doing. Ivy is going to take it on me. That will end in blood. As if I needed that.

"Let's do it again, please."

"Karen? Where is the Cartwright girl?"

She jumped, feeling her cheeks instantly burning up. What have I done this time? It was not even nine thirty and she felt spent already. Last night was a nightmare. They had a birthday party at the diner, and Sue had to leave early. Then it was to late to catch the last train, and she could not afford the taxi fare. She walked back to her apartment to find Dev asleep, as usual. It was beginning to get to her. She needed her life back but the prospect of living a normal life was long gone now that the workshop was in full swing. She walked towards Derek, her stomach tied in knots.

"Staggering, are you," he said with utter discontent. "I need you in top notch condition and still, you look like you haven't sleep in days."

"I'm okay."

"No, you're not," he faced her and took her left hand, forcing her to execute part of the number they had rehearsed the day before. Ivy's number. Her eyes wandered in the studio looking for her blonde rival. "For Christ's sake, follow my lead, or is it to much to ask?"

"Sorry, I think…"

"Don't think. Just do what you're asked."

She locked her eyes on his and glared. Really? "I'm sorry…"

"Come on, don't be so tense, you're as slender as a log." He tightened his grip and his hand pressed against the small of her back. She bumped into him violently. He was obviously keeping a set of keys in his pocket. They collided with her hip. She clung onto him, with a muffled sound. "What now!"

"You hurt me," she protested, massaging her side. "Your keys," she pointed an accusing finger to his pocket and his hand shot to it.

"Let me see," he whispered, his face unreadable.

"You want me to drop my dance tights?" she almost shrieked, lowering her voice. Oh god, no, what is he doing, now, kneeling down? He looked up and placed a soothing hand on her leg. She shot a quick glance around. Horrified, she saw that everyone had stopped doing whatever they were doing to watch them. "Derek, stand up, please, it's all right, I'm not mortally wounded." She grabbed him by the shoulders in a desperate attempt to put an end to the mortifying scene.

He reluctantly got up, genuine concern showing in his eyes. "I'm sorry Karen, I didn't mean to hurt you in any way." He took her hand and she stepped back, her face flushed, but he simply leaned in and kissed her hand. She heard a collective gasp and closed her eyes.

"Did I miss something?" Ivy said from the doorway.

Oh great! Is it his job to make my day a living hell, I thought he was supposed to be a genius. His thumb rubbed the back of her hand and he was gone.

"Ivy, you're back," he said flatly. "The ensemble stay put, we will start with Mr and Mrs Smith. Michael?"

Ivy had tried everything in the book to make her leave but she did not yield. Karen had made it so far and was not ready to call it quits just yet. In the wake of the workshop fiasco, Derek had found more subtle ways to flirt with Ivy, now that he knew that she was Leigh Conroy's daughter. He was so obvious.

And then he quietly fooled her, again. She was flattered. After all, he chose her, again. He told her she was great, and beautiful, and talented, again. He felt very strongly that Marilyn needed a boost and she was just the one who could help him with the problem.

If she were reticent at first when he threw Ryan Tedder into the mix, she was sold, three hundred percent. Every shred of lingering doubt simply vanished and her vanity got the better of her. When it came to Derek, she could not help but return to her previous state, the naïve girl from Iowa fresh from the bus, holding to her suitcase and looking for the stars. He cajoled her into doing what he wanted and she did it.

Despite Julia being always so kind to her, despite the fact that Tom, so supportive of Ivy, never had a hard word for her, despite her moral compass pointing in the other direction. She betrayed them both. She betrayed everyone.

Ivy was so happy to spell it out for her. What was she even doing here? It was supposed to be such a big secret and yet he told Ivy? It means that Sam knows, and everybody knows. Anger simmered unexpectedly. She was tired of being part of Derek's schemes. They had to talk. He was still inside, probably with Tedder. Adrenaline kicking in again, she rushed back in. If she waited too long, she knew her anger would eventually subside, leaving her distressed and back to square one, the naïve performer who wants to impress her powerful and handsome director. She had her speech ready in her head. The musicians were gone but she heard Tom arguing with Derek. Well maybe it was the other way round. At least, she will have the opportunity to apologize.

She came closer, hidden in the shadows behind the bleachers. Tom was really mad. And Derek was even madder. She tried to not listen. She wished for a moment she were still a child. Then she could put her hands on her ears and shut her eyes and pretend it was not happening. She closed her eyes anyway.

"For your information, homophobe, that critic wasn't in your pocket, he was having sex with your father. Everyone knew about it. Never heard you bragging about that."

Oh god, that was bad. Derek might be this egotistic brilliant tyrannical director but he was also a very private person. Anyone could tell. They could not find out she was here. He could not find out. She held her breath until she saw tiny white dots dancing at the back of her eyelids hoping they would not spot her.

A door was slammed, she found herself breathing again, there was only silence. She opened her eyes onlyto meet Derek's. She felt her chest heave as though she was going to be sick.

"Karen," he said, his voice even, "would you care to join me for lunch?" Her mind went blank, and she fell short of any repartee. "It's a yes, I take it," he added with a smirk. He was back to being his usual self.

She nodded frantically. She wanted to say that she was not eavesdropping, that she was sorry, that she had a previous engagement, anything to get away from Derek.

"For the record, I'm sorry that Eileen bailed. You were fantastic, Karen, I have to thank you for the work you put into that number." He gave her a gentle nudge. "Wait for me outside, I'll be right behind you, I have to get my coat." He turned around but changed his mind. "And I have to apologize. You're clearly not afraid of the sex. You were the most erotic thing I have seen on a stage for a long time."

Red crept to her hairline. To say that she was embarrassed was an understatement. Where is that rabbit hole when you need one, her mind screamed as she scurried away.

Derek called them a taxi, acting as if nothing major had happened.


	7. Life & Death In A Musical

**I wasn't planning to get this story that far, but having my personal showdown with the series had been a blast. I'm hoping that you're enjoying it as much as I do. Thanks for all the great feedback guys, you're the best!**

_I don't own SMASH, but you must know that…_

**LIFE & DEATH IN A MUSICAL**

His phone was buzzing non stop, disturbing his thoughts. He scribbled an additional note and winced. That little sod had punched him in the temple. His head was still throbbing. Fortunately, there was no physical evidence he had been into a fight. Ten years ago, he probably would have had the upper hand but for some obscure reasons, he let Dev beat him to a pulp. His eyes went back to the puddle on the night stand before drifting to the voluptuous woman asleep three feet away from him. She was snoring softly, knocked out by her meds. What was it with Americans and their bags of frozen peas? He checked his phone, grabbed his jacket and left silently. He had to text back Karen and he did not want to bring the wrath of a supposed scorned woman upon himself. He had had enough for one day. He chuckled to himself. Life was definitely easier when he was merely shagging the leading lady, which was precisely what the play was short of, at the moment.

"Good morning Karen," he said, letting sarcasm taint his words.

"Thank you for meeting me before the workshop, I know it's awfully early," she said oblivious of his tone. After all, he was Derek. She sat across from him in the coffee shop he had picked up. The waitress stopped at their table to pour some coffee and went on. "I didn't want to take more of your time."

"And yet, here we are," he smiled. "Let me say I'm surprised you got him off your back. Isn't he concerned that I shall try to ravish you in the lift or make a pass at you in the broom closet?"

She did not look away but did not smile either. "I'm so sorry Derek, I don't know what's got into him last night."

"Oh, I think you know, your boyfriend is the territorial type."

"No, he's not! Dev is the gentlest man I know. I guess he was just surprised to see you."

"Really? Remind me not to surprise him next time, then."

"Please, I'm really really sorry."

"Don't. Except for my bruised ego, no harm done. Let's just say that no good deed goes unpunished." She chuckled. "For the record, even if you're immune to my dashing good looks, I'm still an insufferable, rakish, self-important albeit brilliant director. I probably deserve a slap on the wrist once in a while. The fact that I didn't deserve it yesterday makes it up for the rest. On the other hand, you were quite… directive, last night."

She blushed, "Ooh, I… I'm…"

"It was a joke Karen! Come on, shall we get going? God knows what might happen next if we show up late together."

She frowned. Derek never gave a damn before about what people might think.

Derek stopped by at the hospital florist, and bought the most impressive bouquet in the shop. That was the second day in a row that he was in a medical environment because of Bombshell. It had been much easier to visit Duvall the day before, despite their makeshift association. She wanted nothing more than to leave the show. Her food poisoning had provided her with the perfect strategic exit. On the contrary, temperamental, disturbed Ivy was not exactly a friend but he quite liked her. Her intoxication was a call for help but Broadway was not therapy and it would never earn her the part back. Quite the contrary, actually. It was a blatant confirmation he had made the right choice with Karen. Following the nurse's instructions, he found her room easily and let himself in.

"Sssshhh, she's asleep," someone silenced him. Leigh Conroy took the flowers from him and motioned him back to the lobby.

"Ms Conroy, I wasn't expecting…"

"She's all right," Ivy's mother interrupted, "they'll discharge her this morning. They're letting her go under my supervision. I want you to know that I understand what you did."

"How..."

"We have to make impossible choices for the good of a musical. And you made the right choice. I can see now why my Ivy was so crushed. Your Marilyn was quite impressive last night, Derek. In your expert hands, I have no doubt that Cartwright will become a star. Even without you, she will be a star."

"I'm well aware of Ka…"

"But you're too smitten with her to admit she can do it on her own," she interrupted. "I'll tell Ivy you dropped by," she added before closing the door in his face.

Well, this went well, considering.

For the first time in weeks, Karen was happy. Her first night as Marilyn had been an overt success. She had even managed to leave the bar, -and Derek, gracefully enough. Moreover, she had not called Dev back and deleted all his texts before reading them without a second thought. "Hi guys!"

Karen was rewarding by stern looks. "You don't know?" Bobby chirped, breaking out the jazz hands.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Jessica snapped. "Of course she doesn't know!" She turned towards her. "They found Ivy in her car…"

"They found Ivy in her car?" She shook her head, dropping her bag on the next chair. "I… I don't…"

"She took too much of whatever she was on, and boy was she on everything lately," someone quipped.

"God, is she okay?" her mouth quivered.

"Oh, look at you, you're too good for this business, I tell you!"

"But she's okay, right? I have to see her, where is she?"

"Her mother took her back to Connecticut. She'll be fine," Sam explained. "The police, they found her last night. She was just round the corner."

"In her car?" Karen said again. "That's just so awful, how could she…"

"Drop it Karen," said someone. "We know she wasn't your BFF."

"How can you say that?" she wailed. "She is not my favourite person but she tried to take her life. How come no one noticed she was gone?"

"She was not in the mood for celebrating," said Sam. "I thought she needed the space."

Karen nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. "What do we do now? Does Derek know?" Nobody answered. "Come on guys, she needs the support!"

"You gave her plenty so far," Bobby spat, turning his back to her.

"But I didn't do anything!" she protested.

"That's exactly right," commented Sam. "She'll be okay. They found her in time."

Dennis hugged her. "No sweat, sweetie, it happens all the time."

"Derek knows," said Linda who was watching them quietly from the doorway. "He was here at dawn. The police notified him. He wants you all on stage ten minutes ago," she added with a smile.

"Please, please, enough, be quiet." Derek paused and folded his arms across his chest. He lowered his head and cleared his throat. "As much as we would all like to bask in yesterday's success and rejoice, I assume you all know about Ivy. Obviously, I had flowers delivered on our behalf," he said, eliciting some whispers from the ensemble. "She will be fine. These things happen." He paused again and his eyes fanned the stage.

Karen jumped. She was about to say something when Sam grasped her forearm, mouthing a "not now". If Derek noticed he did not say anything.

"Therefore," he trailed, showing not particular further concern for his former star and lover, "a new problem arose. I will need someone as of today to fill in for her. Jessica you know the part. That will do for Boston. You will see the changes for the blockings with Linda. Eileen will start with the auditions for a new Marilyn understudy as soon as possible while the ensemble will rehearse today and tomorrow. Everybody's on board this morning. Ms Cartwright will need my undivided attention this afternoon so after lunch break, except for Mr Swift, you won't have to be back before 5. I'm afraid I have more bad news. Mr Swift..." His voice hit a new kind of cold. "It seems that our Joe DiMaggio had previous engagements I was not privy to and won't make it with us to Pittsburgh. Eileen will audition for his part too. In the meantime, Dennis, you will replace him."


	8. Hell Part 1

**I don't own Smash…**

_**7. HELL (1)**_

"_It always happens, you go out of town and all hell breaks loose._" Bobby was right. Hell broke loose. But I had no idea that it was going to be in my backyard.

After my first performance as Marilyn, my anger finally receded. How could I possibly still be mad at Ivy? Guilt had washed over me like a wave. I know I'm not responsible for the world hunger and the tension in the Middle East, but Ivy's cry for help, I'm pretty sure it was my fault. Surprisingly, I was having a hard time staying mad at Dev as well. After everything we had been through together, he had betrayed me when I needed him the most. I felt like I didn't even know the guy, I mean, at all. It was kind of odd. He used to be such a comforting presence in my life, my centre, my friend, except that I had to find out the hard way he was not as friendly as I thought. He was violent, jealous, a liar and a cheater, and the list went on. Leaving MY ring in Ivy's bedroom was simply the icing on the cake. No decent man would do that after proposing. Not in a million years. Derek had been right from the start. He had warned me, - not in so many words he hadn't, but he had been very straightforward. The first time he ever laid eyes on him, he had made it very clear that he despised Dev.

Actually, it was now all coming down to the fact that his name was on the lease. But I didn't expect him to gracefully hand me the keys. If he did, I could not afford the rent anyway, not with my current pay check. Flat hunting was on top of my priority list, and the list was longer with every passing day. I had no idea how I would manage to find a place, to pack when Dev was not home, to move in, to rehearse, to take dance lessons, and to get some sleep during the next few weeks. It was easy: I simply didn't have the energy to resent him. As much as I tried, with the rehearsals and performances, memories of my ex were rapidly fading into a quiet oblivion. Maybe I had never been in love after all. Maybe I had been wrong all along. Anyway, good riddance, I had too much on my plate right now, the last thing I needed was the heartbreak.

I was stuck in Boston for two more days and then I would be Pittsburgh and then God only knew where else. On the bright side, Derek had never been so nice to me, but I could easily guess why. He needed me. Not that I was high maintenance, but he was fully aware that I could break like glass should he pressure me too hard. Not to mention that it was a totally unexplored territory for him too, since we did not sleep together. I confess that the idea has crossed my mind many times, especially because of his "apology". Men were right, women's mind does work in mysterious ways. I couldn't throw myself at him now, it was too early and a bit too much. Ivy and I were not cut from the same cloth. And where did that lead her anyway? I knew he was more than willing to accommodate me, I'm not that ingenuous, but I simply needed more than mind blowing sex with a notorious director. God, who was I kidding? He was brilliant, funny, handsome in a weird kind of way, and British. British men were seriously ruining all my chances of ever finding a suitable boyfriend. I had no idea whether I was attracted to Derek, his accent or just starstru...

"Okay, very nice, Karen. You take five. Dennis, I need you to…"

Derek's voice shook her out of her reverie. She had been on auto-pilot for the most part of the morning. She rushed to the vending machine. She needed a sugar boost and a pint of coffee like two hours ago. She was revelling in the taste of a chocolate bar that was quietly melting in her mouth when she had the weird feeling of being looked at. She turned around to face Derek who was indeed observing her from a distance. He was talking on the phone. From his expression, she could tell that he was upset. She wiped her mouth hastily, trying to catch her reflection on the glass panel of the vending machine. In the process, she spilled half her coffee on her lap. Ouch, that was hot! She was struggling to get some composure back when his irritating voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

What was it with this man? He just gave me a five minute break and yet he's stalking me. Why would I even think that? I felt my cheeks burning and looked at him, taking in the mocking smile, the sparkling eyes and easy demeanour.

"I apologize if I startled you, and I appreciate that it is an unexpected turn of event but I will need you tonight after the show," he told me matter-of-factly. "I'm aware it's very last minute but you're the star and it happens that potential and very influential investors are willing to meet with me today. They also requested to see you in the flesh."

My eyes widened. I was the star. "Oh… Okay," I nodded, under the impression of having been grounded as if she was seventeen again. I did my best not to gape but my gawk looks probably gave me away. I hadn't even had the time to wrap my head around the fact that I had become the lead of the show practically over night. Spotlights were one thing, the obligations that came with the title were quite another.

"It's nothing really," he said, his mouth twitching. Then he flashed me one of his rare genuine smiles. "I hate to be blunt, but did you pack anything that could come in handy for this kind of occasion?"

"Huh?"

"Karen, you play an icon. It kind of implies that you have to pose somewhat like one."

"Oh, I see, they don't want to see me, they want to see Marilyn." I said, sounding way too cheery.

"You're exactly right. You can skip the wig, but I have to show someone who will satisfy their standards."

"You mean that I can ditch the Uggs and the sweater my mum gave me last Christmas?" I grinned.

He nodded and graced me with another smile. "I'm glad we're on the same page, I was worried that you could think I was out of line here."

She shrugged. "I understand. And the answer is no. I'm afraid you're going to have to pull an Edward Lewis on me tonight."

"Pardon me?"

"Edward Lewis, Viv Ward ? "Pretty Woman"? You've seen it, right? After all, it's more your generation than mine," I teased him, realizing that he was probably the same age as Dev. Was I flirting with the Dark Lord now? So much for playing out of reach.

"Just when I thought you were a feminist," he teased back, a tinge of laughter colouring his dry voice. "Don't worry, even in Boston, I can pull some strings and get you a fitting attire. After all, they've seen you in Duvall's costumes, they don't expect a miracle." I frowned and his face softened. "I promise you, they will be dazzled by your intoxicating presence."

"Don't push it," I snapped.

"I'll arrange for a sample of dresses to be delivered before the show."

"And shoes…"

"Yes, of course, shoes. That is settled then. Weren't you supposed to take only five?" he added pleasantly. "Shall we?" He tilted his head. "By the way, you should probably get rid of the chocolate that you smudged on your chin. It's not very Marilyn…"

Great, he's never going to let me live this one down.

Derek could really pull strings. Bobby went from a dour and sullen dancer to an energetic and enthusiastic friend in less than five seconds tops. As soon as he noticed the gowns casually spread on my chair in the dressing room, he simply went ballistic. His hands shot to his mouth while he was yapping names I've never heard of before. Deciding on a striking dress, he stood in front of the mirror, prancing.

"I can't wear that, isn't it a bit too much?" I said.

His voice menacing to shatter every single piece of glass in the near vicinity, he shrieked. "Are you insane? This is a vintage Alexander McQueen, nude silk organza embroidered with silk flowers, the 2007 collection. I've seen it at the Met last year. It's a work of art, the chance in a life time. Of course, it's not real flowers, but who care?"

"Real flowers?"

"Forget it. With your body and the right hair, you will…"

"Look like a fool?" I suggested.

"Resemble a fairy. Just put it on. Oh my god, I can't believe this is happening," he wailed.

"There's no time, I can't!" I protested, my eyes on the clock.

"Plenty of time," he stated, brows furrowed. "And…" his expert eyes fanned the floor. "I have just the perfect shoes." He handed me a pair of high sandals, with a wrap-around ankle strap in red glossed-leather and fuchsia suede. "Christian Louboutin, summer 2012 collection," he announced dramatically.

"Really?" I moaned after a quick the look of the heels. "It's five inches!"

"Saint Laurent then? It's higher but with a platform."

I gave an incredulous look at the very classic violet and green sandals and shook my head. "No, you're right. I have to make a stand."

"Great," he purred. "I'll stick to McQueen for the clutch, though. If you really want to make a stand, that is." He handed me a charcoal grey stingray box clutch with a small skull clasp.

Derek was waiting for me in the wings after the show. He took my hand and kissed it. I glanced around. The ensemble was gathering for the final round of applause and everybody quickly looked away, pretending that nothing had happened. I was still breathless after the last number, and his eyes grazed my heaving chest. "Go, I'll find you later." His tone was light, his eyes were unreadable. Apart from a few missteps, I was quite satisfied with my performance, which meant that in the World of Derek, I was probably a total failure. I dashed back to the stage and bowed. When I looked back at him, he was gone.

I followed the others to the dressing room. I had half an ear on their excited voices. I dropped on my chair, and watched my reflection in the mirror. I took off the wig and proceeded to get rid of my stage make up. I didn't want to look like the bride of Frankenstein and disappoint Derek. Bobby was over excited by the prospect of seeing me with THE dress. He was bouncing all over the place. A knock on the door and a useless "Are you decent?" made him stop instantly, his eyes bulging. Derek was standing in the doorway with a bag in his hand. The label read Teitelbaum Furs.

"All right children, if you're ready to leave, now is your cue," Derek said extending his arm to show them the way out. Everybody, even Bobby, vanished in a split second. Derek's ridiculously long coat twirled when they passed him by. "I see you're not."

"I'm not?"

"Ready. You're not ready yet."

"Oh, sorry, I'm almost done. I had to change my make-up. You don't want me to make them run away, do you?" I stood up, still wearing my golden sequined gown from the last number. "And Marilyn was always late, anyway," I added for good measure.

"Okay, I'll wait." He sat on the next chair and crossed his legs.

"Aren't you going to turn around?"

"I'll close my eyes. I promise I'll be a perfect gentleman."

Resisting the impulse to retort it would be a first, I simply turned around and let the dress fall to my ankles. "Would you hand me the gown please?"

"Which one?"

"The red one."

"Vivienne Westwood's. Excellent. Let me help you," he added, jumping from his chair and fastening expertly the bodice hidden zip before I could protest. I smoothed the soft fabric cascading from my waist. "Let me take a look… Yes, you're gorgeous."

I leaned on his shoulder to slip on a pair of Manolo Blahnik golden strappy sandals and picked the Saint Laurent clutch I had been eying from the start. "Could you help me with my hair?"

"Your hair? What's wrong with it?" His long fingers combed through my curls. "Well maybe a hairclip with a veil?" He stepped back and shook his head. "No, what you need is this…" he said, handing me the bag. I peeked inside and suppressed a cry of surprise. It was a white fox fur stole with an ivory silk lining. "The Marilyn touch," he said. "And please, loose the cheap rings, they make you look like a call girl."

That is another nice touch, I thought, scurrying behind him. He held the door for me and offered his arm.


	9. Hell part 2

_Hi guys, sorry it took me so long to update. as usual, I don't own SMASH..._

**HELL (part 2)**

"A sexy dress isn't going to kill you."

Oh my god, it was a terrible day. Even before the party, Dev was all business like, not listening to me at all. Office politics? His dumb assumption could not have been more foreign from the truth. I knew I had to make it up to him for the one time I stood him up, but then he had to make a fuss about my dress. As it happens, all that pampering was for nothing. Not only was it a waste of time and energy but worse, it was totally degrading. In the end, I had to sit away from him because RJ had made other arrangements. No extra seats, really?

I should have walked away. But I was in love, or so I thought. I was his plus one, and he needed his "significant other" for support, except that no one actually knew I was here with him! He was laughing and looking embarrassed while I was three tables away, being hit on by a very persistent and ill-mannered imbecile and Dev was simply too engrossed in his schemes to notice anything. Maybe he was so focused on Derek that there was no room for anything else. Hopefully, he'll never know about the couch casting…

It was not the first time I was attending a formal dinner with Dev. Attending a formal dinner without him was a first. Thinking it over, I let him parade me around for months like a prized cow. He must think that it makes him important, I thought, and he was probably right, since the men we usually met were so full of themselves that they were very likely to act the same way. Dev needed his girlfriend to make a stand, I was no more than a frigging walking Rolex, for God's sake. Like people would not expect less of him. How pathetic.

Each and every time, he made me wear a red dress. I read somewhere that red could increase the rate of respiration and even blood pressure. I'm pretty sure he read it too. Red was power, it was passion. Hinting that he was going to take his prize home and have sex with a very hot woman made him the alpha male, the natural leader of the pack. I guess at that time I felt more flattered than appalled, as I should have been, had I had an ounce of common sense.

I entered the restaurant at Derek's arm, a strange idea nagging at me. For once, I was the one with the prize...

I spotted them immediately, a bunch of self important man in suits, exuding money and confidence. I panicked, and my left hand found its way to Derek's arm. "Yes, darling," he said in a very low voice, with a beaming smile matching their own, "show time. Be yourself. You're going to be all right. And if they ask you anything, let me do the talking. We'll be fine, trust me," he added, kissing my hand. Be adorable and shut up. I could do that, I've been well trained. I did not know whether it was his cool breath on my wrist or merely anticipation, but I shivered. He patted my hand. "Don't forget, you're a star," his eyes crinkling at the corner.

I walked to their table, exhilarated by the twirl of red silk I caught in my peripheral vision. My excitement rapidly wore off. The Menton was probably one of the best restaurants in town, but it had minimalist interior. I tried to peer through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was already too late to enjoy the view.

I was bored out of my mind. Derek's presence and the stakes were not enough to keep me alert. The strain of the day was finally taking its toll and I lost track of time. We were constantly surrounded by a flock of servers pouring wine or water or changing silverware between dishes. Derek seemed unfazed. So were they.

He was as straightforward and sarcastic as it gets, but he was fighting tooth and nails against their pretended apathy, fighting for Bombshell, fighting for me, in a sense. He knew what to say, when to bend and where to strike. It was amazing to watch him do this little dance with such ease. Years of practise, I pondered. Unlike Dev, he did not doubt himself or his expertise. He was 300% ego. He had every right to be, he was brilliant and he knew it. The men in suits knew it. Derek Wills was a trademark of success. And more so, he was able to convey such passion for the show that it was mesmerizing.

I knew I was just a pawn, a shiny object thrown on their laps to support his vision. I played my part well, and he rewarded me with brief smiles and knowing grins. I was so tired, I could barely keep up with the conversation anyway, even less participate, but his fingers constantly brushed my arm to bring me back to the matter at hand. I was flashing shy smiles and nodding profusely between a bite of an unknown hors d'oeuvre and a gulp of expensive wine. All of a sudden, while my mind was reeling of exhaustion, they were done.

Derek suddenly relaxed. He leaned towards me. "My star," he whispered with something close to awe. I had never seen smile so often in a single day. Someone said something I did not catch and he erupted into what seemed a genuine laughter, throwing his arm on my shoulder and hugging me. It was odd to hear him laugh. They had been dithering about everything tonight. In the end, Derek had won. Everybody was standing up, chairs being pushed back, hands being shaken. I was about to get up when Derek's hand on my shoulder pinned me down to my seat. I looked up, a little dumfounded.

"Bombshell is fortunate to have Ms Cartwright," he gazed at me, his eyes sparkling, "she's a wonderful Marilyn, I think we can all agree on that." He held his hand and helped me stand up. Even during dinner, always a director, I thought. "I will arrange a meeting with Ms Rand, our producer extraordinaire."

I saw my reflection in the window. I barely recognized myself. Derek squeezed my hand. They were gone. "And now, the good part," he said. "Would you share a lavender angel food cake with me? It's the most exquisite dessert one can find in Boston." Though an appealing thought, I felt like I could not stay another minute without falling asleep. God, I could fall asleep still standing. "You okay?" he asked with concern, taking in my current exhaustion. "God, slap me now, you must think I'm really as insensitive as I look."

"I wouldn't go so far, but I'm really tired, Derek, I'm sorry."

"I apologize for my general rudeness. Of course, you're tired. Let me put you in a cab."

"That would be great," I said, repressing a chill.

He threw the white stole on my shoulders and called for a cab while escorting me outside. If I was a bit cold inside the restaurant, I immediately froze once in the street. December is not the best time of year in Boston to wear a strapless gown and fancy sandals. He drew me to him and clenched me to protect me from the freezing breeze coming from the river. His breathing down my neck made me dizzy. I took a whiff of his cologne and let myself go against him with a moan I hoped he did not hear. He simply rubbed my back while holding me tight. "Better?" he asked, seemingly oblivious of my trouble. I nodded against his chest, lacing my fingers behind his back. "Your carriage has arrived, Madam," he whispered in my ear but for the life of me, I could not let go of him. "You don't mind if we share a taxi?" Half carrying me, he managed to sit me inside the cab and gave the driver the address. I listened for a good ten seconds to the oriental music that was playing before drifting off.

I was dancing with Derek. He looked as dashing as ever in a traditional white silk embroidered sherwani over churidar pyjamas and golden beaded khussa. His long scarf brushed my naked arm and I turned towards him. We joined hands. Immediately, I got lost in his green eyes, resisting the impulse to reach out and tame his tousled hair. He stared at me with a predatory smile. "Don't," I whispered, "don't look at me like that, you're frightening me."

"Oh, darling, I would never do that," he whispered back, his lips lingering on my exposed neck. "Wake up love, we're here."

I moaned back, pulling him closer. "We're here?" My hands ran up lightly on his arms and I laced my fingers on the nape of his neck, stroking his hair, my head resting on his chest. His heart was strong and steady and I really loved his masculine scent. He cradled me, his right hand stroking tendrils of hair away from my face.

"Yes, we are, but take all the time you need, it's all right, we're in no hurry…" My eyes snapped open and I jerked away, startling him. He clasped me tighter, his fingers entangled in my hair. He kissed the top of my head. "It's okay," he said again, "take your time. You fell asleep in the cab, darling."

I felt redness creeping up my cheeks. I fell asleep? Well, I guess it can happen. Today was not a walk in the park, not really. But to fall asleep in Derek's arms? Not in a million years! I glanced at the ticking meter and tried to come up with a witty repartee. "I'm sorry," I blurted out before I had time to think. I heard a muffled laugh and felt his breath against my skin.

"Don't be, the pleasure was all mine," he said very softly, squeezing my arm. "Don't worry. I took the liberty of making a reservation for you at my hotel. I had your things already transferred. No one will know you embarrassed yourself with the Dark Lord."

Oh my. He knew! Of course, he knew. Nothing got past Derek. He probably knew Dev cheated on me before I did. I didn't dare move away and look him in the eyes. Maybe I was stupid to put too much into it. And then what he just said sank in. I sat up abruptly, shaking my head to dissipate the last wisps of sleep.

"You did what?"

"I arranged for your personal effects to be moved to your new room. I hope that nothing is missing."

"No, not the stuff part," I protested, a bit flustered, "why the new room?"

"Oh," he said matter-of-factly, "because you're my star. I know what's going on behind those closed doors when people of the ensemble share a room. Too much to drink, the gossips, the sleepless nights, the bets and the singing. You're gorgeous but you need your beauty sleep. We still have a lot of work to do before going to Broadway. I need you fully awake and focused," he stated without passion. "It's settled now. Let me escort you to the lift."


	10. Hell Part 3

**I don't own SMASH…**

**_HELL (3)_**

Ivy was right. Of course, I suspected that it was another of her obvious Machiavellian scheme. She was right nonetheless. She held a grudge against Karen for numerous reasons, one of them being her chronic insecurities. Ivy toiled up her way to the top, she cannot stop now. Still, it's embarrassing to watch her plot relentlessly behind my back. Well, there's no harm in letting her think I'm not privy to what she's doing, but it will end badly, for her, I mean. She might be Broadway material, thanks to her famous mother, but she puts so much effort into it, it's painful to watch. She is broken by too many years in the ensemble and the prospect of being a star one day is more out of her reach today than ever. She simply doesn't see it and she will never bail.

I followed her advice anyway, after all, she's a manipulative bitch but still a woman. She thought that my helping Karen would hasten her own ascension, so there might be some truth in it, -about the fact that Karen needed my attention.

Knocking on Karen's door was my idea. I simply could not bear to have any conversation over the phone with Oxford what's his name. And if Karen did answer, I'd never see the end of it. She doesn't seem to be able to sustain a conversation without repeating every single word you say. It's terribly boring. She will have to banish this idiotic habit once she's a star, because she will be a star, I have no doubt about that.

So here I am, going up the stairs four at a time. I'm smiling like an idiot. First to apologize for Duvall, second to apologize for my not very subtle move after her audition. I can be humble when it suits my purpose. To be quite honest, I really should have called and get it over with but I had to see her. Don't ask me why because I'd really like to know why I'm in Brooklyn instead of nursing a scotch in a generic hotel bar with a mindless blonde lapping up my every word. Maybe to make sure I'm not turning into a mad man under pressure. I can't afford to become delirious again during a rehearsal. I'm not used to being illogical. Maybe I simply want to make sure I'll see Marilyn one last time before turning into a pumpkin, who knows?

I rapped on her door in a very good mood indeed. I would lie if I said I was not surprised when I saw her in her negligee channelling her inner Marilyn. The poor thing was obviously stricken to find me staring at her on her doorstep instead of her asinine boyfriend. She was quite a sight. My bad. But instead of taking advantage of the situation, I stayed focused and it went well, considering. This apology was a long time coming and I'm quite proud of myself for a change. I could have chosen less arrogant ways to word it, but what can I say? I'm still Derek Wills, she probably didn't expect that much to begin with. Her slight smile was proof enough that my attempt was a home run. We shared a unique complicity for a fleeting moment. It was good to know that she could have a sense of humour.

I won't deny that there was some serious attraction there. She was a gorgeous woman, I was not in any way impervious or immune to her charm. I know for a fact I trouble her. I can see it in her eyes when we rehearse together, or when I summon her a bit too harshly. The sudden intake of breath, the subtle change in her carnation, the panicky wide eyes, all the signs are there. She would tense and arch against me and look away or stare instead, putting on a brave face. I am not about to push her into anything she doesn't want and add to her confusion. It's bad enough that she thinks I chose Ivy over her because we happen to sleep together. I may be difficult, but I'm not old enough to be that kind of man.

Well, perhaps I'm not such a terrible human being after all. Or maybe I am. In my defence, I didn't push my luck, though she was quite the looker in her 20 grams of sheer lace. Of course, she's taken, but it's only a technicality. She's afraid of me because she likes me. I find it quite adorable, indeed. I was on a mission tonight or else I could have played that game again and torture her. I did not. I need Karen. The Duvall won't last and Ivy is unpredictable. Karen will be a perfect Marilyn when that twerp is out of the picture. I'm confident he will be soon, very soon. Nothing like the theater to turn your life into a confusing mess. I'll be there for her.

When I passed him coming home with his hideous cheap bouquet, my heart bled for her. She deserves so much more than that little sod. I let him punch me. Was it on purpose, honestly, I don't know. I was not expecting him to lose his temper. She rushed out of her apartment building in her underwear and came between us. That was brave and really, really hot, indeed.

When I entered the studio with Duvall in my tow the following day, already bored out of my mind, I noticed her make up what different. She was glowing. Our eyes locked. Did taking a beating from the sad prick actually accomplish something or am I deluding myself?

-O-

I hear them long before I reach the dressing room, Bobby's shrill shriek above all others. Striding through the theatre, I cannot help smiling to myself. Bombshell is going to be a smashing success. Despite the hiccups and Ivy's attempt on her life, everything will soon be forgotten. Marilyn would live on for many decades to come and the Cartwright girl will only be the first of her reincarnations. I'm not sure that having her tag along for this meeting is a good idea. Yet, something tells me it is.

After all, I wasn't sure either that I had made the right choice until I joined her in the wings on her first night as Marilyn. I managed to say the magic words. "You're a star." What else could I say at that point? It was too late to have second thoughts. All my doubts vanished the minute she sang the finale. She was a star, indeed. Hence, I needed her by my side tonight.

Without slowing down, I rush inside, eliciting a surge of excitement within the small group. Bloody hell, she's not ready. She's still wearing her sequined dress. For a brief moment, I toy with the idea of asking her to stay in character and to keep the dress and the wig. It's a bad idea. They have to see her, really her, not a character from a play. I casually drop on the next chair. "I'll wait." It's harmless and childish and I should leave her alone. Man, is she pissed! In spite of her scared rabbit routine, she's hard steel inside, he can see it now. Maybe her determination and her honesty had won her the part on par with her talent and good looks. She's exuding grace and candour. I watch her disrobe and hand her the gown she requests. She's a natural. She could have chosen something more spectacular but she went right to the jugular. This red gown was a statement in itself, she made no mistake. Perfect, it is going to be perfect, I ponder, hiding a grin. She holds on my shoulder to slip on shiny sandals and I catch a whiff of her perfume. Chanel 5. She did her homework.

Yes, tonight will be perfect indeed. I wrap MY star up in the glossy lightweight fur and stand back. White and red. Excellent. But she'll have to get rid of the bling, it's unworthy of her. "Please, loose the cheap rings, they make you look like a call girl." For some reason, it doesn't come out right. She glowered at me. Shall I apologize? I discard the idea. It was not meant to hurt her, quite the contrary. Next time, I'll have Harry Winston on speed dial.

-O-

She woke up to a loud pounding on her door. She jumped up out of bed and opened to find Derek on her doorstep. She flushed and her eyes darted to her feet. There was no stopping him anyway. She was beginning to think that their twin room arrangement was not such a good idea. Man, was he awake; did he ever sleep, she thought for the umpteenth time, hiding a yawn. Her hair was a mess and half blocking her view. She tugged at her t-shirt and let him in. He strode inside, speaking loudly with that infuriatingly sexy British accent. She flopped down on the foot of the bed, suppressing another yawn. Of course, after their first night in Pittsburgh, Derek would storm in with the morning papers and read her the reviews, that was a given.

Even Dev knew that it was her first night in Pittsburgh. He had called her X number of times, text messaged her, called her again until the wee hours. Her eyes crept surreptitiously to the waste basket where she had thrown away his flowers the evening before, all his six bouquets. When was he going to leave her alone? She was a bit apprehensive of their coming back to New York. She had to pack her things which probably will lead her into yet another painful and useless talk with him. God, it was exhausting. She really didn't need the extra pressure.

"I see that you're mesmerized by the critics, Karen," Derek quipped. He dropped the papers on her lap and stood before her, his coat brushing her bare legs, arms crossed on his chest, looking down on her with a half smile. "Do I bother you? Are you already bored with your continuing success?"

She looked up, catching hold of the cascading pile and shook her head. "Sorry, I was distracted."

"So it seems. What's wrong, you look awful."

"Thanks," she snapped, throwing the papers onto the thick carpet. She stared at him with a blank expression on her face.

"Did you sleep at all or that little sod still annoys you?"

She felt instantly the sting of tears welling up in her eyes again and hid behind a curtain of hair. "Let's say I didn't sleep well," she trailed, more embarrassed than hurt. Now that she had rejected Dev, he seemed unable to leave her in peace. "I'm sorry. I'll hit the shower and you can tell me everything about our success over breakfast." She stood up and combed her hair with her fingers, gathering it on the top of her head in a makeshift bun. She stretched, oblivious of his presence.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked, averting his eyes from her nipples pointing through the fabric. "I can come back when you're ready, darling."

She knew that all the darlings and the loves were mere punctuation in his usual speech, but her heart fluttered. She turned around and faced him. He was handsome, charming and surprisingly kind to her. His reputation preceded him and she could use some gratifying sex to put things into perspective. She bit her lip. It was a tantalizing prospect. She was almost certain that everybody thought that she had fallen for him. After all, Dev already accused her of sleeping with Derek, so why bother?

"Earth to Karen…"

"Oh, sorry, did you say something?"

"You don't seem well, love, do you want to talk about it?" he asked with concern. He came closer and tucked her hair behind her ears. He took her hand and kissed it lightly, rubbing his thumb on her palm. "I know I'm not your favourite person, but maybe I can help. Use me."

His sudden sincerity hit her in full swing. Her mouth quivered. Oh no! I can't! I can't cry in front of him, not again. He's going to think that I'm childish and spoiled, she thought. An uncontrollable flow of tears began to run down her cheeks. She repressed a shiver and shook her head. "I'm sorry, I'm a mess. And we have to rehearse, I'm sorry," she muttered again.

"Come here, you're going to be fine. If you don't want to talk about it, it's okay, I'm willing to volunteer to pay a visit to your ex and provide him with the just chastisement."

Her mouth twitched. Seriously? "No, please, don't," she whispered against his chest.

She heard him laugh. His hand was going up and down her back, soothing and warm. She nuzzled into his neck and finally let go. The intensity of her grief took her by storm. She shuddered in his arms, her legs barely supporting her. She was whispering incoherent thoughts. Oh my god, what am I doing? It's Derek, not my BFF. It made her even more desperate and she clung onto him, too ashamed to move away.

She was sobbing silently now, her hands clenched to his sweater. He was kissing her hair, his left hand stroking the nape of her neck while his right hand stayed flat on the small of her back, fingers spread on her buttock, pulling her to him. She was half naked in her old Iowa State Cyclones oversized t-shirt, tiptoeing to stay in his embrace and god, it felt nice.


	11. Hell Part 4

**Thanks guys for the reviews, alerts etc...**

**Unfortunately, I don't own SMASH hence the ginormous hiatus :(  
**

**_-o-_**

**_Hell – Part 4_**

_Previously…_

_She was half naked in her old Iowa State Cyclones oversized t-shirt, tiptoeing to stay in his embrace and god, it felt nice._

She closed her eyes, unable to move, revelling in his arms. She gradually calmed down, listening to his regular breathing.

_"Tell me what you waiting for? Touch me, I wanna feel you on my body. Do you like when I'm leaning into you?"_

She resisted humming the song out loud. It felt right to be with him, to be this close and for once, not to be afraid of anything. Did Dev picked up on that? No, he simply was the jealous type. How could he know something she didn't? She marvelled at this newfound discovery. She and Derek were a perfect match. Her body simply loved his. So that was it? She was not impressed by the great director or too shy. Her instincts told her to crawl inside the nearest hole not because she was ''green'' but because she was attracted to Derek Wills?

Still sobbing, she took a whiff of his cologne and snaked her arms around his waist. She heard him snicker. What was she doing? She made it perfectly clear she didn't want him. She might as well stick to her guns. Not that he actually tried to make her change her mind. She has replayed the all harassment thing over and over in her head and she wasn't even sure that he would have tried anything. The more she thought about it, the more she wandered whether she hadn't actually tricked him into it. After all, he didn't ask her to parade in his shirt and to serenade him. He asked her to show him what she'd got. "I want to see everything!" That was a legit request.

Don't go there, she pondered. Remember he came to your place to apologize. Well, it was more of an assessment, but he came crawling. Of course, he would have taken advantage of the situation, why not? She practically threw herself at him that night. But he wasn't going to beat a dead horse, anyway. Derek didn't need to do that. He could have anyone he wanted without snapping his fingers, even Rebecca Duvall.

Her sobs receded and she inhaled sharply. His voice, devoid of emotion, called her back to reality. She gulped and moved away, red creeping up to her cheeks_._ His hand lingered on her arm. "You okay?" he asked, stooping to her eye level.

She nodded, avoiding his gaze. "Yeah, just peachy," she whispered. "I'm sorry," she added, glancing at him, "I have no reason to be emotional. It's been a couple of weeks since we broke up."

"Karen, I don't want to pry but something's wrong. You'll have to get it out your chest eventually. The way I see it, it's eating at you."

"No, it's not," she said. Her voice was too loud and high pitched. "It's embarrassing, it's boring, and I can deal with it." She turned away from him, still troubled by their closeness but he hang on to her.

His fingers circling her wrist, he pulled her back to him. "You better talk now, love, I'm hungry."

Her eyes shot at his face. "You're hungry?" Was he toying with her?

"Yes, didn't have breakfast yet, remember?"

Oh God, she felt so dumb! Hungry like in… hungry, no double entendre, no foreplay. She was imagining things. His snide smile was so sexy. Boy, she needed to get laid. She needed the release and she missed the intimacy. "Oh yeah, right. I'll be a minute, I just need to take a shower," she said. Staring. She shook her head and finally turned around under his scrutiny. Oh, he was grinning now, she was making a fool of herself. _Take a grip Karen, you can do it._

"Not so fast. I may be older than you, but I'm not senile. Spill it out Cartwright, or we're both going to be very late. People will talk," he teased her in his usual condescending tone. "I reckon you owe me an explanation, I've not seen you so distraught for months." With a tug, she was flushed against him, again. "I'm not letting you go until you tell me. Come on, get on with it," he added casually. "The sooner you get it over with, the sooner we can go." His eyes bored into hers. They were very peculiar shade of green this morning, lime green and translucent.

"Are you flirting with me?"

He let her go and stepped back. He cocked his head. "I'm sorry, it wasn't my intention," he sneered, frowning. "Force of habit, I guess."

"You're making fun of me now?" she hissed.

"Angry, are you? Good, then my job here is done."

"So that's it, a scratch behind the ears, a pat on the head? I'm not a f…ing golden retriever Derek!"

"As lovely as you are when you're pissed, we've still work to do. Shall I wait for you in the lobby?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"Which one?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what for crying out loud! I came bearing good news and to take you out for breakfast. What's the harm in this? You're not making any sense, love. You seemed more upset than usual, and I thought you might need a friend. That about sums it all," he added in a flat monotone. "My job is to make you the best Marilyn possible and to keep you that way. If you're upset, I am upset because that puts the show in jeopardy. I think you understood. Well, if you still need my help, simply ask. I can do without the drama though," he stated, tucking his hands deep inside his pockets.

"So it's always about the show?" she hissed.

"Most of time it is, yes," he said carefully. He'd never seen Karen like this, he was treading in unchartered territories.

"I'm exhausted Derek. I haven't had a good night sleep in weeks. Dev won't stop harassing me. I miss my friends. I miss New York. I miss my life. Why do I have to feel so miserable?"

"Like I said, I can take care of your Oxford problem…"

"I can't see how."

"Just say the word and he's gone for good."

She gaped. "What do you mean for good?"

"Oh darling, don't put too much thought into it, let's say his interests conflict with mine. I can make the problem go away. I'm gonna make him an offer he won't refuse. I know people."

"You're not going to hurt him, are you?" she asked, her eyes wide, identifying the Godfather quote.

"I meant female people," he winked at her. "He'll be too busy to make you miserable ever again." He grinned.

"Oh… okay," she looked down. She seemed to spend most of her time with him in a permanent state of incontrollable shyness.

"You miss your friends now? Why don't you fly to Iowa? Two days is more than enough to rekindle with old acquaintances."

"I mean I miss the ensemble. They're fun to hang around with. I don't know much about the theatre…"

"You don't say."

"… and it feels lonely in here."

"Ouch. What a cruel blow to my ego. Darling, you're the star, it's a lonely place," he trailed. "When you made it to the top of our chaotic production, you lost them. Their perspective is biased. They will never support you the way they support Ivy."

"I'm sure they're not 'just' colleagues!" she protested feebly, aware that he was probably right. Most of them had been rooting for Ivy from the word go. Ivy was family, she wasn't.

"You're obviously free to change your mind. We don't have to stay in the same hotel. I admit it's probably more convenient for me than it is for you. You're free to leave whenever you want," he challenged her. "I won't stop you."

"Good to know," she muttered. What did he mean really? Convenient? And was she ready to trade her cosy room in a fancy hotel downtown and pass on her nights out with Derek for some fun with the ensemble? She had no idea. She waddled unconsciously.

His mouth twitched. "As for New York, we shall be back in a couple of weeks. I promise you'll forget everything about all-nighters on the train and sordid hotel rooms once we're back."

"Okay, I believe you."

"Chop-chop, hop into the shower and meet me at the coffee shop round the corner, I'm too famished to wait for you."

She smiled. The moment, her moment, was gone. No wild animal sex with Derek. She felt relieved. She cannot sleep with him, it was a bad idea. "I'll be right behind you!"

She watched him leave and padded to the bathroom. This was too close for comfort, she thought, a little woozy. She knew it was not from the lack of sleep.

Did she tell him to take care of Dev? And more importantly, how was she going to deal with this sudden attraction to the dashing director? Following her instincts could be fun but it might be a disaster for her heart and her career. Derek was probably not good for her in the long haul. The question was, does it really matter, she thought. She was looking for mindless sex not a relationship. On the other hand, Derek was not the arrogant jerk he liked to project. There was more to him than meet the eyes or else why would she be troubled?


	12. Hell No!

_**I don't own SMASH**_

**-o-**

**HELL NO!**

"And I do understand love," he said, his voice low and quiet. Her heart jumped and she leaned into him, relishing in the warmth radiating from his body. He tightened his grip on her waist and his mouth brushed her neck. After the initial start, she tensed under his touch. His hands spread on her hips, gently pinning her to him.

Their moment, whatever it was, was cut short, conveniently for the both of them. It was totally unprofessional of him to breathe those words back to her. His timing was awful. He needed her focused and yet, he was distracting her with his inappropriate confession.

She did not miss her cue though, despite the final touch he had added to the already potent drama that had rocked her day. There was trouble in paradise for her and her Brit, it was not a mystery after their not so private fracas. He didn't want to know what the rumpus was all about. Given Dev's disarray in the back alley, they had probably called it quits. Ultimately, it had won her the part. He was almost ready to cave in before Eileen. Almost. Here she was, glowing in her glittery sequined dress, basking in a pool of lights, singing the last number. All in all, it was a glorious day for Karen Cartwright.

He still had mixed feelings about her. He knew that choosing the green performer from Iowa was right. She had proven tonight that she could do it with flying colours. Eileen would back off after that standing ovation and Tom and Julia would probably see the light. Julia had never had her mind stubbornly set on Ivy, she could even be on his side at times. And Tom would just have to suck it up.

If Karen could pull it off so brilliantly with a ten hour crash rehearsal, improvement would only be the icing on the cake.

No, he was having mixed feelings about Marilyn, the real Marilyn. Marilyn was a mystery that no one would ever fathom. Her vulnerability was not a weakness, it was her strength. Though she was oozing sex-appeal, she always felt insecure and the more her relationships failed, the more she gained success on the screen. He was well aware that Ivy, Karen and even Rebecca were his own constructions but nonetheless he could not help feeling attracted to each actress as soon as they transformed into Marilyn. And under his skilled guidance, they did indeed.

There was that feral glow about Ivy's, the innuendos, the promise of spectacular sex. With Rebecca, it was different. He wasn't attracted to her but to the movie star, really. Her impersonation of the late star was at the same time appalling and riveting. But in the end, Karen was Marilyn. He could see her, and not only in his mind. That was a problem.

-o-

The more they performed Bombshell, the more Derek came up with notes. At some point, Karen had to ask the others. Was it normal? Was it always like this? Will it ever end? Though she felt she had been like a castaway for the best part of their preview tour, they were quite happy to fill her in.

Yes, it was normal and it was only the beginning. They thought that Derek was actually going soft. Were they expecting more of those exhausting rehearsals? How could they look forward to rehashing the same thing over and over again with what seemed to her like minor or merely insignificant changes? Was it worth it?

On the bright side, Derek seemed to be able to keep at bay the narcissistic prick that lived together with the brilliant and visionary director. Surely, it had nothing to do with their success, it was simply a coincidence. Sam had suggested that he was channelling his inner Tow Levitt lately, sparking off vehement protestations and a general outcry from the ensemble. They were right. It was most unlikely.

One thing was certain, with Michael gone for good this time, the play had lost a great performer but gained in peace and quiet. Julia was three hundred percent on board and reactive, but with her family in tow. Tom was his usual gentle self, calling Ivy once a day to make sure her health was really on the mend.

Everywhere on their path, they gathered great reviews. There was no doubt left that once they were back in New York, it would be smooth sailing off Broadway first, and finally plain Broadway. Perhaps it was all it took to finally turn Derek into a decent human being. That seemed to be the unanimous collective wishful thinking.

Karen couldn't help wondering if something wasn't really off. Derek used to have a compulsive bad temper. It came with the territory. Was he losing his edge? The tiger was tamed, the Dark Lord was no more, Darth Derek had taken off his mask. Everybody was too busy coming up with a wittier repartee to really acknowledge he was in bad shape.

When he had told her that being a star was a lonely place, he meant it. After spending time around him, she understood that being the director was even lonelier. Eileen needed him. She needed his name on Playbill as much as she needed his expertise. Several months later, her romantic notion of Marilyn the Musical had evaporated; she couldn't open her mouth without barking numbers, throwing her fears of losing millions of dollars and her credulous creditors in the mix. Everybody expected him to make tough choices only to resent him afterwards. In the midst of all the drama, he was supposed to be sensible, creative and to make it work. The pressure might be unbearable. Shit had hit the fan repeatedly, and he was the only one still standing.

For the first time in weeks, she really noticed that the flamboyant, egocentric, mercurial, demanding director was not shouting his notes with unwavering certainty and a smirk on his face any more. Along the way, his energy and smugness had evaporated. He had lost weight, probably couldn't sleep, sporting dark shadows under his eyes 24/7, his stubble was now going on the verge of grey. He looked beaten more often than once. Was it exhaustion?

More disturbingly, he could go through intense period of exaltation, which he could not remember the day after, or sink into weird moments of apathy, as if he were aware of something only he could see or hear. It got people to talk but not enough to make them care about the drastic change.

Their arrangement had made her spend a lot of time with him in various locations, eateries, theatre, official venues, hotel rooms. After the initial shock when he had kissed her before her first preview in Boston, he never tried anything else and they never spoke about it, their relation remaining professional to a T. She had been quite happy to sweep the awkward moment under the proverbial rug, now it was bothering her. That was so not Derek. She found it difficult to believe that he was all of a sudden capable of getting his act together. She was the new Marilyn, he should have come after her. But he did not. They spent hours discussing the blocking and the play, he helped her with her dancing, mollycoddled her to no end, making her stronger with every passing day and yet he left her every night in front of her door with a curt nod and a half smile.

Was he waiting for her to make the first move? A man like Derek Wills didn't have this kind of expectation. He was the one who made things happen. She watched him talk to Dennis and shrugged inside. No, there was something else, something broken. She blinked back to reality when he turned to her and made her sit on the bench for History is Made at Night, something about the lighting and Dennis being too distant. She complied willingly. After weeks of Derek yelling on and again for the simplest thing, it was odd to be exposed to such calm and quiet. She should have felt safe in this new satisfying environment but it was exactly the opposite. However, the rehearsal continued in earnest without a hitch until noon.

When Linda bellowed out lunch break, she grabbed her bag and trotted down the stairs to talk to him. Maybe he would come forward and tell her what was wrong. He was on the phone and she kept at bay when he turned his back to her. He finally hung up and his head dropped to his chest. She saw him wipe his forehead. He gathered his notes and she simply stood there, waiting. "Derek, you okay?"

"What now?" he snapped back. "What do you need Karen, can't you see I'm busy?"

Oh… The Dark Lord was back with a vengeance. "We had plans, don't you remember?" she said gently. "Is it Eileen again?"

"Plans?" he frowned. He was hesitant and clearly at a loss, his voice laced with concern. The scolding was gone in an instant. He sauntered over to her and held out his hand. "Oh, yes, plans. Well, shall we get going then?"

He wrapped his arm around her and gently squeezed. "You were terrific this morning, Karen," he said. "Are you in the mood for Italian?"

It was her turn to frown. Derek had never been fond of Italian cuisine to say the least. She wasn't either, as a matter of fact. How could he not remember that? She nodded anyway, acquiescing silently. Yes, something was definitely wrong, she thought, realising that he had not gone bonkers since… forever.

-o-

"Oh god, you're as daft as a brush, aren't you? How can you not recall the blocking we rehearsed this morning?" Derek shouted. His voice echoed in the theatre. The ensemble held its collective breath and all stares went to Dennis. She saw that Jessica and Bobby were exchanging befuddled glances. She stood up from her spot in the wings and casually ambled down to the parterre where Derek has set up his desk.

Every one looked at her and breathed again.

"Derek, may I have a word?"

He seemed to get out of a haze and his eyes locked on her. "Yes, of course," he replied fondly, taking her aback after his previous outburst. "Everybody take five, and please, try to regroup, if possible," he shouted.

"Come with me, let's walk," she said, clinging to his sweater and dragging him outside. Though he looked surprised, he came along, giving her his arm in the friendly gesture they were accustomed to. When they reached the foyer, she stopped and stared at him. He was smiling, oblivious of her concern. "Everything all right, Derek?"

"Of course not! Dennis doesn't…"

"I mean, are you all right?" she interrupted.

Puzzled, he stared back. "Oh, this is not about the play then, I reckon. You sound like an intervention."

"It's not about the play. It's about you. I'm worried, you're not your usual self," she trailed, aware her eyes were betraying her. She was way past worried.

He shook his head. His impatience to be off the hook was obvious. "Karen, I don't have time for this game. We're already way behind…"

"Derek, look at me. Is there something you're not telling me?"

He was clearly annoyed now. Derek was a very private person and she could tell that despite the fact they had grown close during the last couple of weeks, he was surprised that she got personal. Her pushing him to reveal something he didn't want to talk about was certainly not the best way to get things done, but that was the only way she knew how.

"You've always acted like an overbearing maniac, and we're still learning to interact with the new you," she smiled, "but I'm having a hard time believing that you may forget things."

"Forget things?"

"We didn't rehearse Lexington this morning, Derek." She stayed quiet, waiting for him to accept what she just said. "How can I help? Please," she insisted.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his mouth a thin hard line. "So, it's happening again, I take it?" he simply said. He exhaled deeply. "I guess I owe you an explanation Karen."


	13. Hell Yes

_A lot of you guys asked me where I was going with Derek's sudden illness. At the beginning of 'Tech', there's a bottle of prescription meds on his night stand and he seems to forget it when he leaves for Boston. I know it can be sleeping pills, but… Hence, my farfetched theory ^^_

**_I don't own SMASH_**

-o-

**HELL YES!**

In a sense, it was weird to realise she had fallen out of love with Dev. Even weirder, it felt easy and painless. She couldn't remember anything, neither the good nor the bad. Not that her mind was numb or anything, the memories were simply gone, replaced by a life where she was breathing and living Marilyn, with little room for regrets. It was hard to reconcile her memory loss with the fact that a couple of weeks ago Dev was supposed to rock her world. She was going to be engaged to the prick. Boy, she was going to get married.

Her body hair stood on end. Yes, it was weird. Discarding the prickly feeling, she rubbed her arms to make the goose bumps go away. Married. Jeez... The hard part was still ahead of her. Even if Dev had stopped harassing her on the phone, she wasn't out of the woods yet. In the midst of their coming back to New York and the hard work that will fall on her lap, she'll have to face Dev and move out. Only then she could hope for closure. In a mere couple of weeks, she had outgrown her youthful romantic idealism, fought for Marilyn and understood that no matter what she did, Ivy would never be her friend. She was finally ready to accept it was not her fault. That was a lot.

That brought her back to Derek's erratic behaviour of late. And what he had sarcastically called her 'intervention'.

When she thought she'd try to extend a friendly hand, she was not in any way prepared to hear what he was willing to confide in her. Truth be told, what he was saying really sounded like a for-your-ears-only relation of sorts. She was aware that numerous artists suffered from the same disorder, but for the life of her, she would never have thought for a minute he could fall into this category.

As usual, he was very straightforward. Suspecting that genetic factors were the key to his frequent mood swings, he had sought psychiatric guidance in his late teens to discover that he was afflicted with a manic-depressive disorder that explained what he was going through. Over the years, he had learnt to deal with his predicament, so that the episodes, as he called them, didn't not interfere with his work. He had managed to inverse the tide, successfully turning apathy into passion for his art, anxiety into assurance and guilt into indifference for the human kind, his despair cloaked by hyper activity. His mental incapacity to bond with people forcing him more often than not into unlikely relationships, he always favoured the female pool he was handed on a plate. Though he remained generally irritable, he was most of the time egotistic and flamboyant, all things considered normal for a renowned director.

Lots of choreographers and directors were far more eccentric than he was, giving him the benefit of the doubt in the public eye. But working with Eileen Rand had drastically changed that. 'Bombshell' was a forced march to success and a challenge he could not refuse. His medications eventually got in the way of his work, so he gave up lithium. After yet another fight with Tom, -at this point, he had gazed at her knowingly, he decided to get off his meds completely, thinking it would only be momentary.

She could have given anything to be someone else, someone who didn't care. He knew. He knew that she was there. He knew she had overheard his argument with Tom, the day of the 'Touch Me' debacle. But he didn't want to delve into that embarrassing part of their relationship. Oh my god, do we have a relationship? she thought. It sure looked like one. Their director-performer rapport had seamlessly shifted into something more personal during those weeks of rehearsal.

He had paused and dragged her out of the theatre, calmly walking out into the street. With his coat on her shoulders, she followed him in the street, and continued to listen, unable to say anything, barely able to look at him as they walked away.

He told her about his hallucinations then, and of the way stressful events would throw him into what he called an unstable psychological phase. His sleep, which had been altered for years, had become a rare commodity, throwing him over the edge.

"What can I say, Karen? You thought I was a narcissistic dictatorial posh arsehole, now you know the truth, I'm merely a book case scenario. And to answer you question, there's little you can do." He turned towards her and tilted his head. He smiled his half smile, "I understand it's a lot to compute. Nobody knows, not even Tom. Come on, say something. After all, I'm insane, I probably won't remember anything."

She glanced at him. "Nothing comes at the forefront for the moment."

"Let's have some tea then. Tea is the one thing a Brit can never get wrong."

"Okay. I'm… I don't…" Oh God, that was difficult. There was an awkward moment as she fumbled unsuccessfully for something to say, wrestling with her thoughts. With his line of work, he had not lived a life that engendered a romantic mindset. Maybe if he'd found comfort with a life partner, he wouldn't be so jaded. On the other hand, Derek was heartbreakingly earnest with her, a welcome change after Dev. She never thought she could be so calm around a man again. He stayed silent, giving her the time she needed to come to term with his revelation. His weary eyes never left her face. "Thank you," she finally muttered warily.

He inhaled sharply, puzzled. "Thank you?"

"Yeah, for telling me."

"Oh, that. See, from my point of view, it's a no-brainer. I don't even have to play a role, I don't have to wonder how to react to people or how to do my job. I just don't care. It is quite liberating in a way. So, I guess telling you is a process."

"A process?"

"You still need my attention Karen. We're not on Broadway yet. It's easier for you if you know why I am… difficult," he smirked, making her flush, "… sometimes. You're my insider now. So far, I'm loving your intervention… even if I'm fucked up, that doesn't mean I can't be grateful." He pushed the door to the coffee shop and let her past him. "I knew you'd make a brilliant Marilyn…"

"I know, you told me."

"I did indeed, and I was right, darling. I don't know whether I saw you because I'm a delusional fool or a visionary director, but it worked. So let's celebrate, again, over a nice cuppa. I'm sure the ensemble shall be grateful to you for a welcome break."

They sat down. "I know I've been pushing hard. I want this show to be perfect. It's far from perfect right now. Besides, I'm already bi-polar, what could possible go sideways?"


	14. Oh, What the Hell!

Have you read this interview on **_Parade_**?

**Kat McPhee : **"_I obviously love Jack Davenport and we have a great rapport together. We enjoy working together and I think I have a little bit of an idea of where that might go between the two of them. In season two, they'll definitely have a lot of interaction. When you watch that final episode and look back throughout the first season, you can see these quick little moments that might mean more than you might have originally thought. I was really excited about how the season ended._"

**I don't own SMASH**

-o-

**OH, WHAT THE HELL!**

He was as bossy as ever with her when the cast rehearsed. She didn't imagine things would change in that department anyway. He was Derek Wills after all, nobody was expecting him to behave differently. She was simply aware of the subtext.

The rest of the time, they simply kept doing whatever they were doing. Coming to the theatre together from their hotel with a stop for breakfast in a different coffee shop was their usual morning routine. He would knock on her door and she would meet him in the lobby. Apart from the casual pleasantries about their night and sleep or lack of, they simply engaged into conventional conversations avoiding altogether three subjects: working together, Ivy's recovery and Eileen's increasing agitation. His mental state was obviously the current elephant in the room they carefully kept at bay.

Between the rehearsals and a performance every other night until their coming back to New York, she had to carve out time in their busy schedule to be there for Derek. She knew she didn't have to. He never asked anything of her to begin with. She figured if he trusted her with his secret, she'll help him anyway. He fought for her that was the least she could do.

She swirled the wine in her glass, once more searching for her words. There was so much she wanted to tell him. It would be great to take their minds off the play and speak of anything, but that evening, they seemed to be stuck in a pattern that drove them back to it every time she tried to change the subject.

Now that Eileen and her investors had left, she wandered why she was here with them in the first place for that fancy dinner. It looked a lot like what she was doing with Dev.

"She wanted you to be there," he said in his usual blunt delivery that sent shivers down her spine and made her stomach fill with butterflies.

"Excuse me?" How does he do that? She thought. She looked down, red creeping to her cheeks. Did I say anything out loud?

"Eileen, she wanted you to be there," he said again with a nod. He winced, and reached out for her hand across the table. "I'm guessing she gets a kick out rubbing it in your nose," he said with a smug shrug. "She's quite aware I won't budge. As far as I'm concerned, the Ivy train is long gone. She fucked up in Heaven on Earth, she fucked up with you last week. Her little stunt doesn't change anything."

"Derek! You can't honestly say that! She tried to take her…"

"You're too good for this business Karen," he interrupted her, reminding her of another conversation, "it happens all the time. I've had enough of the whole diva drama. It's over. Even Tom can see it, and he's been Team Ivy from the start," he added, letting go of her hand and taking a slug of his scotch.

"Team Ivy? What are you, 12?" she gaped.

"Just leave it at that," he chuckled and winked at her. "My problem doesn't lie with Ivy. She's talented and she'll find another gig. My problem is Eileen. She doesn't seem capable to see the big picture any more. She doesn't handle the pressure well. But don't worry darling, she'll come to her senses, eventually. She knows she has a success on her hands, and that's way more than what she could have ever wished for."

"Really?"

"Really. And she owes it to me and I chose you. I can't believe we're having that conversation again. Listen Karen. You must look at the bright side. She's just pissed at you but she's a lot more pissed at me. There's not much she can do. She wanted a name and she failed miserably, in my humble opinion. So now, unless she persuades Ann Hathaway or Scarlett Johansson to work for her, she's done and we're safe. She doesn't have that kind of money."

"Okay," she said cautiously. Where was he getting at? She knew all this. Everyone in Broadway knew that Eileen's money was stuck in escrow, courtesy of Jerry Rand.

"Imagine if she knew I'm a complete maniac," he continued, oblivious of her train of thoughts, "she'll be doing back flips in her sleep!"

She giggled, imagining the very poised Eileen Rand jumping on her bed. "Derek, be serious for one minute, please. Maybe you should see a doctor…"

"I've seen plenty. I feel great!"

"Yes, I can see that," she said gently. "What I meant is you might want to see a doctor as soon as possible. Not tonight but tomorrow. I can tell that your mood is increasingly volatile..."

"Oh, you can now!" he smirked, his eyes darkening. "Don't rain on my parade, love," he said dryly. "We're on a winning streak and I want to hold on to that. I'm feeling great right now, I'm in love with Marilyn, I've a crush on my leading lady and I don't feel compelled to act upon it," he teased her. "I'm actually able to keep it in my pants and spend some quality time with you."

She looked down, fidgeting with her napkin. "Wow wow wow… too much information Derek."

"Come on, darling, I was joking." His face fell and he took her hand. "Hey, it's a joke, Karen." He kissed her hand, searching her eyes. "I'm sorry if I offended you. It's just who I am. No filters. Please don't shut me down…" he pleaded.

"Why would I do that?" she said, frowning. "I… I'm not… Oh God, this is frustrating!" He gently squeezed her hand. She looked up and stared at him. He looked awfully tired. She felt like running her hand through his tousled hair. She closed her eyes and exhaled sharply. Even worn out, he was attractive, even more so, she pondered, imagining what it would be like to kiss the corner of his eyes and… What's wrong with you! "I really think you have to get back on your meds," she whispered. What ever happened to being here for him? He told her he didn't want her help. It had been almost ten days since his 'confession' but it was the first time he talked about it again. She decided to match his carefree tone. "So, did you make out with Marilyn behind my back again?" she asked, her eyes bright, her heart pounding.

He smiled, raising an eyebrow, and sat back in his chair. "No, I didn't and I miss it," he said with a mischievous smile.

"Are you flirting with me?" she smiled back.

"Why not?" he grinned, his accent thicker than usual. "You're my leading lady, that's what I do."

For once, she didn't feel the familiar redness creep up on her face. She kept staring at him, evaluating the nature of her body response to his blatant still playful admission. She couldn't deny that she was attracted to the guy. He was good looking, funny, unpredictable, hot-tempered, smart and a perfectionist. She had not seen his work for the stage but she had read stellar reviews. She knew that he was a brilliant director from his films. She was flattered that he chose her for Marilyn, and that said a lot more. She knew that he was the one casting doubts in her head when Dev proposed. Dev seemed like a distant memory of another life when she was with him. She decided to take him at his word. "Okay," she breathed, barely audible.

"Okay?"

The great Derek Wills was puzzled, she smiled inwardly. Good. "Yeah, okay." She got up abruptly and grabbed her bag. "We've been… I've been doing this little game with you way too long. Let's go before I change my mind. We both… I know it's a mistake Derek, and I'll probably come to regret it." She held out her hand.

"Why?"

"Oh jeez! You're really doing this? You're going to be the gentleman now? You want me to beg? I don't believe it!" She felt the stares of the other patrons dart to her but she didn't care. "You remember when you called me to your loft for a… what was it you call it?" she bit her lip.

"A private session?" he offered without moving from his chair.

"Yes, a private session!" She was getting far too much animated for her own good, but what the hell, "I wanted to teach you a lesson…"

"And you did indeed."

Her arm still straightened towards him, she turned her palm up, "I wanted you that night. I still do."

"Karen, please don't."

"Really?" she huffed, "you sleep with every woman that crosses your path but you…"

"We're not having this conversation, I mean it."

"You know what? Don't bother. I'll be out of your hair."

Derek watched her leave the restaurant and his head dropped on his chest. Ignoring the curious stares, he signalled the waiter. "Scotch please."

He'll have to patch things up tomorrow or maybe simply whisk her away with a snide comment. She'll be mad. His star will be mad because he didn't sleep with her. That was certainly a first.


	15. Karen, the Magician

_I'm really sorry it took me so much time to update this. thank you again for the support, you guys rule!_

**_I don't own SMASH_**

-o-

KAREN THE MAGICIAN

"Oh, bloody hell!" Derek bellowed. His voice boomed inside the empty theatre, stopping everyone in their tracks. "Dennis, I do know you can dance but would you care to demonstrate some useful skills when you sing? DiMaggio loves Marilyn, I want to hear it. And please, don't stop breathing on my account. I need you until we find you a suitable replacement. I hate to break the news to you people, but it's not community theatre."

"And it's a break," Linda announced. Furrowing her brows, she went to Derek and they exchanged heated words in hushed tones. Derek's animated face showed conflicting reactions. He cursed out loud, and grabbing his signature coat, he turned heels and left the theatre.

Tom Levitt stood up and sauntered to the stage. "That went well," he made a face before exploding. "What's wrong with him?"

"Tom, don't!" Julia pointed an adamant finger at him.

"Is he alright? Are we concerned?" the composer insisted.

"He seemed a bit off," Julia pondered.

"This man is a bad person, I told you from the start but you didn't listen. Someone will file a complaint for harassment. We cannot afford a lawsuit, not now!"

"Stop it Tom, you're being ridiculous."

Linda simply shrugged and went back to the wings where the ensemble were hiding and holding their breath. Karen was still standing center stage in a pool of light, her arms dangling. The spotlights went out with a clang.

She was unsure of her current options. Derek was mad. Not mad mad but angry. It couldn't be because of her. She was the one who was rejected, not the other way round, he had no reason to resent her. The day before, she would have followed him to the street without a second thought and tried to calm him down. Today, she had no clue what to do. She had no intention of being bullied for the sake of the production.

"Hey Iowa," said Jessica who was approaching, "anything we should know? Did you guys break up?"

"Oh for the love of God, Jess, we never were an item. You really believe your own gossip?"

"I don't believe anything. You're the one who came back with her suitcase in tow to OUR hotel last night. I figured there was trouble in paradise…"

"There's no trouble and no paradise. I'm not sleeping with Derek," she said. Her voice echoed in the wings. Fantastic! Why am I shouting now, I'm broadcasting my life on stage. Could it get any worse? "He was pretty much the same as any other day, isn't he?"

"You kidding right? He practically eviscerated Sue and that was before he tried to rip off Bobby's head!"

"Well, you're probably right, I guess I'm getting so used to it that I don't care any longer. Okay, I don't know what's got into him this morning. And yeah, you're right, he's off. Well, he's entitled to a bad day, I guess."

"A bad day? Worse day ever! Karen, you got to fix it."

"Fix it? Seriously? I'm not a magician, I can't fix Derek!" Karen protested, already regretting what she said. "Derek Wills doesn't answer to me."

"I won't be so sure about that," the blonde girl insisted. "Did you hear about Ivy?" she added in a quiet voice. "She's in rehab."

"Rehab? Oh…"

"Maybe that's what ticked him off? I don't know… Anyway, you've got to do something Iowa!"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, hold his hand, cry, whatever. You're his muse…"

"I'm his muse now!"

"… he'll listen to you. Really, you're not sleeping with the Dark Lord, I think he's cute. And his accent, do even get me started!" she swooned.

Karen rolled her eyes and went back to the dressing room. She was expecting to be grilled, but the ensemble barely acknowledged her presence. Dennis was sulking in a corner and everybody was minding their own business even Bobby.

A half hour later, Derek wasn't back yet, and Tom took the matter into his own hands. They rehearsed in some kind of harmony which was far worse for the troop morale than under Derek's mercurial guidance. At noon, Tom finally threw in the towel. "Damn it, this man is so frustrating. Everything is password protected and I can't even decipher his notes. I have absolutely no idea what he was up to with all the changes," he hissed, combing his hair with his fingers.

"He'll be back," Julia brushed his arm with the tip of her fingers, "he's been acting up but he still wants Bombshell to go to Broadway… I think."

"You think? Great, this is me doing cartwheels right now," Tom winced. He exhaled deeply. "I need some comfort food."

"Yep, take a break, I'm sure he'll be back eventually."

"Is it supposed to be reassuring?"

"Tom please, it's way too early to freak out. Cross your fingers, Derek will be back. Take my word for it. He's a professional, he knows where his loyalties lie. On the bright side, if you can have comfort food and cross your fingers at the same time, we're good."

"Ah ah… I need to find Sam."

"You do that. I'll hold down the fort."

-o-

"What now?" Derek scoffed. Karen stopped two feet away from his table. He had his back on her and he seemed to be busy with his phone. How could he… "Oh please stop with the doe eye routine would you, and sit," he said without looking at her. "Please," he added somehow reluctantly.

She stood in the coffee shop in a daze, resisting her first impulse. To flee. She took a deep breath. Focus, Karen, focus. Theater wasn't a controlled environment, she knew that, but they witnessed Derek being clearly completely out of control today, -again. Fix it. She walked to his table.

He finally looked up. That was her cue.

"Do you know that you have poor social skills?" she said with a cheering voice which sounded horribly fake even to her ears. She scooted down in the booth before him and gave him a level gaze. She almost gasped in surprise. His eyes were dark and weary, his face pale, and his mouth a thin line.

"Dysfunctional skills maybe, poor, I'm not so sure, darling," he quipped. "You're the one who stormed out on me yesterday. And I was being a gentleman. Still you left the hotel."

Karen shook her head with a slight eye roll. Really? He had trashed their morning on account of her reaction? She didn't have to justify her actions. After he turned her down, her only option was to leave the hotel. She had to make a stand. At the time, it felt right. Now that she was in front of him, not so much. "I'm serious. What's going on Derek?"

He went back to his phone and typed a message furiously. He punched send, "Dammit!" he whispered. He looked up and held her gaze for a moment then exploded. "Bombshell is going on!" Curious stares shot at them. He tossed his phone and it skidded over the table, stopping just before it came crashing down to the floor. "Eileen won't get off my back, Julia is irresponsible, her script still needs a lot of work and she simply can't see it, Dennis is an appalling DiMaggio and Tom? Tom, what can I say? He's just like an infant playing childish games with me."

"An infant?"

"Sniffling and sulking and hiding things from me. Important things!" he spat.

"You're not being paranoid here, of course," she thanked the waitress for the coffee with a nod and a smile and got her attention back to Derek.

"Paranoid?" he scoffed again. "He knew that Ivy was popping pills behind my back like candy and yet he decided against telling me. He kept a paramount piece of information from me, hence tainting my judgement."

"Tom is Ivy's friend…"

"And that's exactly why he should have told me. This kind of disclosure, that's what I would expect from a friend," he smiled stiffly. "She needed help and Bombshell ain't therapy!"

"But…"

"Oh for crying out loud Karen, can't you see it either? He put the play at risk and everybody involved in the process."

She nodded and sipped on her coffee. "Yeah, I guess so," she offered. "And you've been part of the problem Derek. After all, you slept with her."

"Oh not again, I thought we went through this embarrassing part before. It was sex Karen, something you don't seem to understand. Ivy is a big girl, she knew what she was doing. I never lead her on."

"She's in rehab."

"I know."

"Oh…"

He shook his head in frustration. "My job is to know everything. I need to know everything to make it work. It's actually easier than you think," he added in a softer tone. "People don't pay attention any more. They spend countless hours on the phone discussing their lives and others'. And I'm always around." She could see a glimmer of the real Derek behind the hard mask and instantly relaxed. He sat back in his chair. "So… I guess you're here on a rescue mission?"

"More on a fix-Derek-mission…" her mouth twitched.

He wagged his finger. "I won't get back on those fucking meds!"

"I know, I know. I won't even try to make you. I'm just here to help."

"How?"

She shrugged. "I have no idea."

A faint smile graced his mouth. "Why?"

"Really?" she said with a pout. He locked his eyes on hers until she looked down. "I…" Damned you Derek! She thought. He had her wrapped around his little finger and he knew it. "You want me to spill it out for you. You're some kind of a jerk, you know!" she spat after a pregnant pause.

He smiled a sad smile and patted her hand. "Karen, don't be mad, please. You really would go on a limb for me, wouldn't you?"

She never thought of it that way actually. She bit her lip, puzzled, watching his thumb rub gently the back of her hand. "Yes," she finally whispered, fluttering her eyelashes dramatically.

"You making fun of me?"

"I wouldn't dare, Mr Wills."

"Good."

"Derek, you've got to come back and behave yourself. This morning, you were terrible. And you can't let Tom take over the rehearsal. It doesn't work."

"Bah, he knows the play like the back of his hand."

"He's too soft on people."

He chuckled. "Too soft? You want me to bring back the whip with me?"

"Oh god no! Just don't act like a psycho… I mean…" She flushed.

"I understand. But how would I know?"

"You got to tell Julia. I can't have your back here. I'll be on stage rehearsing with the ensemble."

"No. If Julia knows…"

"… Tom knows. Isn't he supposed to be your friend?"

"Supposed, being the operative word. No, can you stay with me for the afternoon and make sure I… behave myself?"

"But…"

"No but. Jessica can understudy while you stay with me to make sure everything goes smoothly. This is final. You'll see, Karen, it's going to be fun."

"Fun? You're out of your mind! They'll resent me like forever!"

"I'm out of my mind, love, we both know it."

She smiled, fidgeting with his phone. "Can I ask you something?"

"Ask away."

"Yesterday, why did you push me away?"

"You were drunk."

"No, I wasn't," she protested.

"Okay."

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"Karen, I'm bi-polar. Do really expect me to give you a reasonable explanation?" She stared back stubbornly. "You're not going to let it slide, are you?" He sighed. "I don't know. It seemed like the right thing to do. Am I off the hook?" She nodded. "Good. I'm glad. Shall we go now?"


	16. Havoc

_Thank you guys for the feedback, you're great. I have no idea where this story is going, so please bear with me!_

**I don't own SMASH**

-o-

**HAVOC**

Derek leaned against Karen, his eyes not leaving the stage. She tensed, surprised by the intimacy of the gesture. She was not used to being this close to Derek. Even during the workshop, it was so rare, she could count those moments on the fingers of one hand. "What's wrong, love? You keep checking your phone it's very… distracting," he quipped, pressing her hand.

"Oh, sorry, bad habit."

"What is it," he insisted, keeping his voice to a bare whisper. "Is it your boyfriend again?" he asked with a scorn.

"No, no, he stopped harassing me sometime ago. The last I heard of him he said he packed my stuff and stored it in some facility in Queens."

"How thoughtful of him," Derek smirked. "That means you're homeless? When were you going to tell me? You know you may crash at my place if need be. This flat is so big, I'm pretty sure I'm harbouring entire families without my knowledge."

She grinned, squirming on her seat, attempting to put some distance between them. "Thank you. I'm sure that I can find a place once I'm back."

"I don't doubt it for a minute, but you're welcome to stay. I'm almost never there and when I am, I could use the company. You can cook, can you?" he teased her.

"What an enticing proposition, Derek. I'll think about it. You're… you're a good friend…"

He furrowed his brow. "So why are you checking your phone? Did you find a more appropriate suitor?"

She flushed. He chose this old fashioned term on purpose, she thought, not knowing what to say. "I'm checking what time it is," she said, her cheeks burning.

"Really? Are you bored already?"

"No… Yes. I'm not used to be the audience. When you're rehearsing, time flies and…"

"… today, not so much," he stated with a deadpan delivery. "I thought you might enjoy the view and you wanted to help. How am I doing so far?" His face changed and he turned his attention back to the ensemble. "For Christ's sake!" he shouted. "Is it to much to ask of you people?" Letting go of her hand, he jumped from his seat before she could do anything to stop him, striding briskly to the light. "Jessica, there, Dennis, wake up and watch your mark. This is a disaster waiting to happen! Where is Linda? Karen, come over here," he wiggled his hand over his head. "Show them, please. Okay, let's get started again. From the bridge, darling."

He kissed her hand when she passed him before going back to his seat. "Larry!"

When everyone thought that their three hour morning rehearsal was a nightmare, nothing could have prepared them for what happened that afternoon. With Tom gone to check on Ivy, Julia tied on the phone due to last minute family problems and Eileen back to New York, Derek had a field day with them. Karen was too exhausted to interfere and Linda was over her head with all the notes and the numerous petty changes he was flooding her with.

Derek continued to wreak havoc for hours until Karen finally collapsed, missing a step during 'Wolf'. Before anyone could wrap their heads around what just happened, Derek was on the stage hovering over her with a menacing stare.

"Did he gnarl at us?" Bobby asked, gaping at Derek, his eyes shooting in every direction at the same time, as if he was mapping a quick exit route.

Derek knelt down beside her. "Go away, all of you, before I get you all fired," he shouted.

Linda came as close as she dared. "Derek, show some respect!" she said loudly.

Everyone gasped.

Derek's eyes locked on hers. His voice was icy and detached. "I give respect to ones who earn it, to other, I'm civil," he spat.

"Exactly my point, you're not civil. You'll get us in trouble with equity."

"I don't care. Give her some air. If she sprained her ankle or worse broke something, we'd have to cancel. I need to know she's alright."

"Do you want me to call Tom or Julia?"

"Please just go… Please," he whispered.

He turned back to Karen, oblivious of the crowd dispersing in the wings. Her face was freckled with sweat and her breath ragged and short. She opened her eyes. They danced and gleamed, unfocused.

"How are you, love," he said quietly, not bold enough to move her.

The only thing she could see was his face looming over her. Her surroundings were blurry. He swooped lower, his face inches from hers. "Don't move. I'm guessing Linda's calling the paramedics as we speak. Are you hurt?"

His thumb brushed her arm. She closed her eyes, unable to breathe properly. "My chest. My chest hurts."

"Your chest?" he said loudly, puzzled.

"I can't… I can't breathe."

"The fall knocked the wind out of you. Don't move, listen to my voice," he said soothingly. "Relax, it will come to pass. How's your ankle?" His hand clasped her leg and he touched her foot and then her ankle, palpating gently. She shook her head.

"It's not sore. I slipped, that's all. Don't worry, I'm okay." She tried to sit up and he helped her, resting her on his lap.

He pushed away from her face a strand of loose hair. "I messed up, didn't I?" he asked softly.

"Yeah, big time. It's my fault. I wasn't here for you."

"You were. I didn't listen. I'm afraid this one is on me, darling."

"I really think you should tell Julia…" she brushed his cheek with her fingers. She could say he was not expecting it. He had a pale smile that reached the eyes. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw and lingered on his neck. He didn't move, caught in the moment.

"Karen! Linda told me you fell, you okay?" Julia's concerned voice startled them both.

Karen jumped and her hand fell on her lap. She nodded. "I'm okay, it's nothing really. Could you give me a hand please?"

She heard Derek sigh. He grabbed her waist while Julia was clasping her hand. "See? I'm fine really. A little tired, that's all." She glanced at Derek who stood stone-faced between them.

"I told everyone to leave," Julia explained. "I told them to be back here at 6. You sure you're okay. We can cancel…"

"Cancel?" Derek bellowed. "Are you out of your mind!"

"Derek, you know I don't want to but if Karen's…"

"Oh, for crying out loud. Nonsense, she's fine! She'll have her two hour rest now and tonight she'll be perfect, as always."

Julia hesitated for a brief moment, glimpsing at her phone. "Sorry, I really have to take this. You don't mind?"

Derek stood up straight, his hands flying. "You may for all I care, but please keep it out of my show."

"Your show? Oh, this is rich coming from you," Julia said angrily, ignoring the insistent buzz. "I thought we were in this together!"

"You thought really? I had to practically beg you to finish the script, and I'm still waiting for most of the changes I asked of you. You're stalling. Why? I have no idea! Tom wrote his songs but when did he look at the orchestration? Never. It took him like five minutes to write the whole score and now he's ignoring me."

"Why don't you tell him?" Julia hissed.

"I did. I told him that his songs were missing the 50' feel I'm looking for. I'm still waiting for the maestro to comply. He's never around. I imagine he's too busy looking after his protégée. He's doing everything he can to jeopardise the future of Bombshell and you know it."

"Because you didn't?"

"Excuse me?"

"Sleeping with Ivy and Duvall, that was unprofessional and you know it."

"I… I have to change…" Karen muttered.

"You stay!" Julia and Derek said in unison.

"Because sleeping with Michael Swift was what he signed for? I wasn't aware…"

"Don't you dare!" Julia said in a menacing tone.

"Or what? You're gonna fire me like you did Swift? I was not privy to this new clause in my contract either. You would find that I'm not as expendable as your leading man."

"I supported you when you chose Karen."

"Really? What was the choice in that? Ivy was a wreck and Rebecca was gone. Karen was the only option. I should have chosen her from the start." He clasped his fingers around Karen's wrist. "Listen, I merely don't want another Michael Swift incident to get in the way of MY SHOW. Cautionary advice. Come with me Karen. Ms Houston needs some privacy."


	17. Help!

_Sorry it took me so long to update, real life, blah-blah-blah. i'm not really happy with this chapter but here you go anyway. once again thanks for the great support!_

**_I don't own Smash_**

-o-

**HELP!**

Julia watched them walk away to the darkness of the back rows. Derek proceeded to drag Karen along. She stumbled down in his wake, barely touching ground. She tried to keep up with his pace, but he was stomping off in such anger that he didn't consider their height difference. She begun to run behind him and finally stopped dead in her tracks, and shouted.

"Derek, you're hurting me!" she cried, when he unintentionally twisted her wrist in the process.

He turned back abruptly, looking upset and let go of her wrist immediately. His arms fell limply to his sides. A puzzled expression on his face, he came as close as he could, and leaned over, still managing to avoid any physical contact.

"Please, Karen, help me, I don't know what I'm doing, please," he begged, keeping his voice low. She blinked and the tears she had been holding back started to roll on her cheeks. "No, no, no, please, don't cry. Did I hurt you? No!" His face writhed under contained stress. Awkwardly, he wiped away the tears with his thumb. "Please, don't leave me alone now, I need you," he whispered in her ear.

He stepped back, his face almost touching hers. She was the sole witness of his inner struggle. He was in pain. As she felt Julia's stare boring into their backs, she resisted the impulse of reaching out to him and simply nodded. "I'll get you back to the hotel," she whispered back. "I don't have much time before the show. After, you're on your own, you rejected my offer to help you, remember?"

She grabbed his coat on their way out, her hand tightly holding his like she would with a child, and lead him to the street. He followed eagerly.

Watching them on their way out, two members of the cast exchanged a meaningful glance. "He went off the rails or what?" Bobby huffed, without a look at Jessica.

"I wonder how he can get any work done," she pondered. "You think he's sick or something?"

"There's no harm to make some good money out of it, what do you think? Twenty?"

"Okay," she smiled. "You're awful!"

"I am? Let's up it a notch then," he grinned. "I bet you fifty she sleeps with him. Today."

"No, she wouldn't! She just broke up with her boyfriend, it's not in her bones to get a rebound guy. It's way too soon."

"Oh, I think she definitely would," Bobby smirked, earning a teasing nudge in the ribs from his fellow cast member.

"And anyway, how would you know?"

"Oh, I think we'll all know," he winked.

"You're really bad, you know."

-o-

They were only five blocks away from the hotel, but Karen hailed a cab. Though Derek was still agitated, he stayed silent during the ride, lost in his thoughts. He kept his eyes closed the whole way, clenching her hand fiercely. She helped him out of the car and guided him to the elevators. Avoiding looking at him, she pushed the elevator button, afraid he'd lose it before they were alone in the safety of his room. His vacant stare was terrifying. He was always so full of life, she was having a hard time believing he could be in such a distress. He walked down the hallway to his room in a daze. When they finally stood before the door, he didn't demonstrate any interest in the fact that they were stuck outside.

Letting go of his hand, "I'll take your key card now," she explained softly. He shivered, and his eyes seemed alive for a brief moment. He nodded with a sigh. She went through his pockets and found the card. She slid it swiftly into its slot and the door opened with a click. He didn't move. She grasped his hand, prompting him to sit in the chair facing his desk but he dropped on the bed instead like a ragged doll. He propped his elbows on his thighs and buried his head in his hands.

Was he sobbing now? To say that she was worried was an understatement. She knew that he trusted her but she was not prepared to deal with the situation.

She took a look around. The spacious suite smelled of a synthetic fragrance intended to make the place comfortable and friendly with a faint trace of disinfectant coming from the bathroom. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The main room was in pristine order, his notes carefully spread out on his desk, facing several foam board models of the stage. She ordered tea from room service. Dev always found solace in the consumption of the traditional beverage, she could as well start from that. He let her take off his coat and lied down on the bed, hiding his face with his forearm. She had no idea what to do next. She was too exhausted for small talk.

"Did you take your meds with you?" she asked bluntly, hoping that it would trigger some reaction. It certainly did.

"No. I told you I won't get back on these fucking meds!" he snarled before taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry love, I didn't mean to snap at you," he added briskly, keeping his eyes shut.

"Stop apologizing Derek, I understand." She found a sweater in his suitcase, tidily folded and put it on. She was still shivering from the cold. Going out in her work clothes which amounted to almost nothing was something that should have sparked off a strong reaction from the demanding director, and yet he barely noticed she walked him back to his room in a tshirt and sweat pants. He was supposed to prevent the cast from catching a bug, after all, they were in Pittsburgh and Christmas was only six days away. It was really really cold. She folded her arms on her chest and sat on the bed.

His face was more peaceful. After the energy spikes he had experienced during the day, Derek stayed prostrated on his bed, not acknowledging her presence. To be perfectly honest, Karen didn't think that his previous episodes had affected the rehearsals in any way. It didn't seem to impair his judgment or his creativity. His mood was elevated and his tendency to irritability increased, but he was the same Derek with even less social filters.

Today was different though. She'd never seen him so defeated and quiet and didn't really know what to expect next. Since his confession, she had googled his disease and found out that it could lead to substance abuse, particularly alcohol. As far as she could remember, she'd never seen Derek in a social function without him guzzling down scotch after scotch. Even when they had to meet during the day, he had been drinking.

And then, there was the problem of his well documented hypersexuality. Derek had been catalogued as a womaniser for so many years that she never gave it a second thought. He slept with his leading ladies. That was his modus operandi. What if his nasty habit was merely a manifestation of the disease? His voice distracted her from her thoughts.

"Karen?"

"Yep, I'm here, you should rest. I'm not going anywhere until 6, that is. Or do you want me to call Julia and cancel the show?"

"No, don't, thanks for the tea, darling, it was very thoughtful of you. I'm feeling better already. Now, you need to eat something before the show."

To eat something would be the wise thing to do, but she was so anxious she realized she was fighting a bout of nausea. "I'm okay."

"No, you're not!" he exploded suddenly. He jumped from the bed and faced her, his face distorted by anger. "God, you're so frustrating you know!" he hissed.

"I'm sorry if I'm a disappointment, but the last thing you want to see is a sick Marilyn," she quipped, her big brown eyes glowing. "My stomach is in knots. Honestly, I can't eat, even if I need to. I'll grab an energy drink from the vending machines at the theater."

They stood there, staring at each other, for a moment too long, his anger not receding. Red crept on her face while her eyes opened wide under stress. Not the scared rabbit routine again, he thought. They were past that, she must know she didn't have to be afraid of him by now.

"I have to take a shower," she blurted out. "Do you mind if I use your bathroom?"

His head dropped to his chest. "Please do," he snapped, striding across the bed room to his desk. He flipped through his notes, apparently oblivious of her presence. With a sigh, she went to the bathroom.

God, this place was larger than her living room! She disrobed while tears were welling up in her eyes. She didn't have a living room any longer. Actually after Pittsburgh and Chicago, she'll be homeless so to speak. She quickly clambered into the shower. Her back was sore, her feet were sore, and she needed to get her focus back before her performance. She held up her face under the cascading water and tears were lost in the water. It was warm and soothing. She poured some body-wash in her hands. Of course, it smelled of Derek. It was disturbing and arousing at the same time. She washed herself absent-mindedly, replaying the last day. Why was she so worried? Because you care, dumbass! Her hands lingered on her breasts, spreading the lather on her abdomen, her fingers rubbing it on the inside of her thighs. She moaned, tilting her head back, letting her fingers reach the apex of her thighs, gently probing and titillating her sensitive spot. She climaxed almost instantly, a wave of unexpected pleasure rippling through her body. When she got back to her senses, she switched off the shower and grabbed a towel. She expertly twisted it over her dripping hair and dried off quickly, reluctant to get back into her stinky clothes. She wrapped herself into a towel and headed back to the room. "May I burrow some of your clothes," she asked. He turned around.

"You're dripping on the rug," he grinned.

"No, I'm not."

"You're soaked wet," he nodded with an appreciative smile.

She felt her body responding to his praise. You have no idea, she thought. "So is it a yes?" she asked again.

"You're aware that if you come back to the theatre wearing my clothes, people will talk…"

"Oh… I hadn't thought of that. You're right," she sighed.

"Of course, you already know that I don't give a toss what they think, so it's entirely up to you," he mused, getting closer.

She gave him an uncertain smile and bit her lip.

Somewhere deep inside, he knew he should not take advantage of her, not right now, not after she volunteered to hold his head above the water. On the other hand, here she was a tantalising view, half naked in his hotel room, gorgeous, innocent and at arms' length. Without giving it a second thought, he pounced on her and pulled her into his arms. He saw her eyelashes fluttered and then he kissed her.

Oh bloody hell! What am I doing? This is Karen, she's here to help me. He let go of her immediately muttering an apology between his teeth but she hung on to him fiercely, pressing her body against his, pulling at his shirt and stroking his back. The towel fell and her naked body flush against him, she kissed him back.


	18. The Bet

**I don't own SMASH**

-o-

_**THE BET**_

"Where is Iowa?" asked Jessica taking a look around. The usual flock of the ensemble was gathered before the theatre for their antepenultimate preview in Pittsburgh. The air was chilly and the sidewalk still snowy, but that did not stop them from trampling around to share a last piece of gossip and a last cigarette. "She's not back yet?" She checked her watch. She called Karen again but her phone went directly to voicemail. Concerned, she turned to her partner in crime.

"Told you. She's doing the nasty with the Dark Lord. You owe me a 50," Bobby quipped, wiggling about in the snow.

"Who's doing the nasty?" Sue intervened. "Is Ivy back?"

Behind her, Dennis plastered a huge grin on his face. "So we're back in business, huh? Who's the lucky girl?" he asked, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

"Karen! Who else?" Bobby nodded triumphantly. "She fell for him from the get go, it was only a matter of time before she fell into his bed."

"You don't know that!" Jessica protested. "She's not here yet but that doesn't prove anything."

"Oh, yes, it does," Bobby declared with learned voice. "It's the law!"

"Whose law?" Tom Levitt asked. Sam trailed along and stared at their small group. "What are you up to, children?"

"Nothing," Sue hastily said. "Karen's late."

Tom's eyebrows rocketed to his hair line. "Late? How late?" He checked his watch. "Did you try to call her?"

"Yep. Voicemail."

Already shaking under stress, Tom dialled a number with a panicky face. "I have to call Derek. Or Julia… or both…" He walked away and strode up to the foyer. "Eileen, we can't get hold of Karen. What do you want me to do?"

Their conversation was brief. Eileen would call Derek and would ask Julia to come to the theatre. They still had an hour to make a decision and cancel the evening show. Clutching his phone, Tom looked defeated. Julia's taxi stopped in front of the theatre five minutes later and she rushed inside. She hugged him and they disappeared from the view.

The ensemble was still hopping up and down outside with impatience. "What is going on here?" a strong voice bellowed. "Aren't you supposed to perform tonight? Where is Karen? Karen Cartwright?" Derek yelled. He was rewarded by the stunned reaction of the cast.

"I… we don't know," Bobby finally said with a shrug.

"Oh, for crying out loud," Derek barked. "Not again! This musical is a disaster." He walked up the stairs in a few strides and turned back. "Well, what are you waiting for? Unless you're on a strike I'm not privy to, we have a performance tonight… if I can find Marilyn, that is," he added in a softer voice.

The cast rushed in behind him and scattered into the theatre, exchanging hushed remarks. "Told you," whispered Jessica, pounding on Bobby's back.

"Hey, you're hurting me!"

Derek didn't stop until he found Tom.

"Did Eileen tell you?" asked the composer.

"Oh, what now?"

"Karen's missing."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, again." He checked his phone and cursed between his teeth. "Sorry, I forgot to turn it back on. I'll only be a minute."

"It's probably Eileen…" started Tom, but Derek already disappeared. "Oh, great, walk away!"

"Calm down, I'm sure she's simply late," Julia tried.

"This man is a reptile, I told you. His heart is made of stone and his…"

"Enough with the metaphors, Tom. Does anyone from the cast know anything?"

"I don't know, they said she was missing and Sam…"

"Sam was with you. What I'm saying is: did anyone check if she was really missing or did they assume she was a no-show?"

"Oh, good call, partner," Tom's juvenile face lighted up. "I'll check the wings, go check the dressing rooms."

"No need," Derek's imperative tone stopped them. "She was asleep on a sofa in her young Marilyn attire. Costume room, her retreat of choice. No life or death situation here. Much ado about nothing," he added without looking up from his phone. "I'll be seated in the fifth row if you need me. I have to check the blocking for Wolf. New idea. Some of us have to work for a living, Tom."

"I hate him. A reptile," Tom sneered.

"I guess we jumped to conclusions while he kept his cool. Director's prerogative," Julia said with a calm voice.

"Did you change sides while I wasn't looking?!"

"Oh Tom, please, no tonight. Frank is back to New York. Leo is a pain and I need the quiet. I'll be with Derek."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Tom muttered.

-o-

After her last bow, Karen returned to the dressing room. As soon as she entered, she knew that something was off. Everyone stopped talking and all the eyes turned towards her.

"Spit it out Iowa, what's going on with you and the Dark Lord?"

"Really? We're going to have this conversation again? You're obsessed! Tonight was good," she grinned, trying to deflect the attention.

"Don't you dare change the conversation," Bobby said. He sat on a stool and blew on a loose strand of hair that was blocking his view. "You left with Derek, and he was in a poor shape, to say the least." They all nodded in agreement. "And then he's back like nothing happened and you're asleep upstairs? I don't buy it!"

She sighed. "Derek was unwell and I went with him to his hotel and went back early. What's the big deal?" She unscrewed the top of a cold cream jar and began to remove her makeup. "You guys are insane."

"What about your phone then? Why did you mute your phone?"

She turned towards Bobby. "Oh god, really? What do you want me to say?" she asked, wiping off the last trace of stage makeup. "I took a nap. I put the alarm on and I slept. Like I said. Totally eventless."

"I don't buy it," he said stubbornly. "Why didn't you stay in your room at the hotel?"

"Guys, I like it here. Don't you understand it's totally new for me? I need it, don't you see?"

"Okay Bobby, that's enough, give me back my 50."

Karen rolled her eyes while half the ensemble exchanged green bills. "You bet again? What was it this time?"

"That you'd sleep with Derek… to improve his mood."

"Oh my god, you're a terrible person! Why would you do that?"

"Hey, girl, that's what we do. Fancy some burger or Chinese or whatever?"

"I promised Derek I'll grab a bite with him after the show."

"That's it! Give me my money back," Bobby wailed.

-o-

She entered the restaurant and spotted Derek immediately. He was having an animated talk over the phone and seemed more relaxed than she'd seen him in weeks. He waved at her before looking away. When she was two feet away from their table, he hung up and smiled. "The costume change was too long before 'History'," he said bluntly. He took her hand and his lips brushed her skin. "Are you okay?"

"The costume change?" she said again.

"Darling, I'm still the director…"

"Someone misplaced the shoes, no big deal."

"Everything is important. The play was four minutes and thirty five seconds longer tonight than the night before."

"And that's why you did not come to the wings to zip me up before the finale? You were too busy with your chronometer?" Karen snapped.

He grinned. "Let me start again, will you?" he said. He stood up and left abruptly.

She frowned. Maybe he was not better.

"Hey there, sorry I'm late," a strong voice startled her. Derek leaned over and his lips brushed her cheek. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," he added, sitting across from her.

"I thought you stood me up!" she played along.

"I was on the phone with Eileen, she's pleased. That says something. Should we order now?"

"She's pleased?"

"You're aware she's still after a replacement for Rebecca Duvall…"

"Oh… I had no idea."

"I missed you," he said softly, "but it was worth it. You were magnificent up there. A real star."

"I guess you're trying to soften the blow."

"I'm sincere, love, you are good, anyone can see it. And yes."

"When?"

"Probably as soon as we go back to New York," he stated. He reached out to her over the table and his fingers intertwined with hers.

She stared at their hands and let out a sharp breath. "It's okay. I had my five minutes of fame, that's more than I could hope for. Waitressing ain't that bad, anyway." When she looked up, her eyes were glowing with unshed tears. "Well, I just had a third degree experience," she said in a carefree tone that sounded fake to her ears. "Bobby placed a bet on us."

"A bet?" he grinned. "Let me guess. When are you going to succumb to my devastating charm? To yield to the impossible temptation? To replace Ivy?"

"And Rebecca," she quipped. "Yeah, that's the general idea."

"So technically, he lost."

"Technically?"

"Did we sleep together while I was_ not_ under the influence? I bet I would remember, love."

She bit her lip and looked away again. "I don't know what happened earlier, Derek. Really."

"Nothing happened. What stopped you?"

"Not now Derek."

"Oookay." He sat back in his chair, looking bored.

"Oh, please, can't you be nice for one minute!" she yelled. Her head dropped to her chest and stares from the patrons in the restaurant lingered on her. "I don't know, I don't know okay?" she said softly.

"So much for being discreet," he said pointedly. "Maybe we could take this conversation elsewhere before we're all over the news. Shall we?"

She nodded and stood up stiffly. Her chair rattled on the floor, drawing additional attention. Derek rolled his eyes. What was wrong with all these wannabe starlets? She grabbed her over-dimensioned holdall bag and ran outside. He caught up with her a few yards down.

"Do you mind if we go straight back to the hotel and order room service?" she asked without looking at him. He shrugged. "I can't see why not."

They shared a cab and Karen stayed silent the whole way. Once in his room, she didn't say a word, barely paying attention when he called the reception desk. She was pacing the room slowly, lost in her thoughts.

"Are you okay, love?"

She shook her head. "Just give me a minute, please."

"You're usually so cheerful and, I must say, zestfully enthusiastic…"

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Something wrong? For Christ's sake, no, of course not."

"You know I like you, of course you do, I'm so stupid," she muttered. "I have to go, this is a bad idea."

"I'm not letting you go until you let it out of your chest. You were there for me. I feel much better, thank you very much and thanks to the good doctor's prescription, so let me help. Not sure I know how, but I can try."

She stopped and gaped. "You took your meds?! Oh, god, I'm so happy," she squealed, throwing her arms around his neck. She let go of him and hopped up and down around the room like a five year old.

"You're insane you know," he smiled. Folding his arms on his chest, he watched her do her dance till she fell flat on the bed, her arms spread out. "What now? Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"I don't know what happened Derek," she said, not moving, her eyes locked on the ceiling. "You… you terrify me, in a way."

"I terrify you? That's why you stuck your tongue down my throat, to defend yourself?" She closed her eyes and red crept onto her cheeks. "Or were you planning to wrestle me away in the nude instead?"

"Stop making fun of me."

"The way I see it, Tom is already convinced I'm ravishing you every chance I get and gave you Marilyn because we're having sex, so does Eileen and probably half the cast. Ivy tried to take her own life, your boyfriend threw a punch at me, we both want this, so why don't give it a try… or not?" he added thoughtfully when she didn't answer. "Karen?"

He was rewarded by a soft snore.


	19. Christmas

_it's very short and i'm not happpy with the result, but here you go..._

**I don't own SMASH!**

-o-

**_CHRISTMAS_**

Karen awakened the next morning feeling disoriented and exhausted. A bright sunray streaming through the window was nagging at her. "Jessica," she whined, "you forgot the shades again!" The disturbing light had interrupted the best dream she'd had in weeks. Derek was… Derek? He had taken her shoes off and tucked her into bed. Patting the bed beside her, she reluctantly opened her eyes. Caked with dried makeup, they felt puffy and swollen. The miniature stage on the desk and a Macbook confirmed she never made it back to her hotel the night before, she had slept in Derek's room. Danny will never let that one slide, she thought with a frown.

It might be Derek's room, but she was alone. She checked her phone. Almost ten. If they had spent the night together, he was long gone. His side of the bed was cold. She went to the bathroom in a dash. No residual steam, he left like hours ago, she thought, worried. That was odd. Why would he leave? Did he forget to take his meds?

God, was Derek gone missing now?

Calling Eileen or Julia was it the right thing to do? With no rehearsal and no preview today, he could even disappear for one day without anyone noticing he was gone. She couldn't call them to say she lost him, she knew how it would sound. That would be a blatant admission they were having an affair. She wasn't prepared to hear the 'You should have know better' and the 'He left, what's new' that would punctuate her revelation. They'll patronize her to no end, not to mention that Eileen will probably leave him a message, or worse several, making only matters worse if he was all right. Derek was sleeping around but not advertising it. Julia would promise not to tell anyone and would immediately tell Tom, and Tom Sam, Sam Ivy, and in next five minutes she'll be ridiculed or scorned by the entire cast.

She couldn't prove that nothing was going on. They had grilled her for weeks now, teasing her about being Derek's muse or whatever, they'll just assume that they had been in a secret relationship for weeks. He would turn instantly into his proclaimed rebound guy or they'd say that Dev cheated on her with Ivy because they were both cheated upon in the first place. It'll be a mess. Of course, they'll also assume that it was what got her the part instead of Ivy. She couldn't have that. She tried his cell. Her call went directly to voicemail. She hung up. "Shoot! I should have said something, he'll know I called," she said between her teeth. She was just about pressing #1 to the reception desk but decided against it. Better ask in person when she's ready. They've seen them together already, it wouldn't sound as bad. No reason to panic just yet, even if she couldn't help it. He probably went to the theatre or he was out buying the Sunday papers.

Hastily, she disrobed and took a quick shower. Her evening was a blur. She pictured herself going to the restaurant to meet him, their trip back to the hotel in a taxi, and an awkward conversation. She was tired and embarrassed and happy to be with him. Happy?

Focus, Karen, you were just trying to help. But who was she kidding? She liked him. Yes, she liked Derek. She couldn't say it out loud just yet, but she could as well admit that simple fact to herself. She had no idea when she began to feel that way. He made her life a living hell at the theatre. When they were alone, he was thoughtful and caring. She enjoyed his company, so what was the harm in spending some time together? Obviously, he wasn't indifferent either.

And then she remembered his pep talk before she passed out in his room.

Oh my god, did we? It would be quite the irony to have blacked out some kinky sex with her womanizing director. Of course not, she still had her clothes on, she pondered. And yet it felt like something happened. Those damned dreams were getting out of control.

She was applying a light makeup when a knock on the door startled her. "Are you decent? I'm famished," said the familiar voice, its British accent thicker than ever.

"Where were you?" she asked, sticking her head out of the bathroom. "I called you. I was worried." She paused. Stop it, Karen, that's girlfriend territory. "Don't go anywhere, I'll be just a minute," she added nervously, attempting to sound casual.

"In your room of course, and my phone's dead." He tossed it on the bed, took his coat off and sat at his desk.

"In my room? But I left the hotel last week."

"There's no law against paying for an extra room," he rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. "You never know when you'll need it."

"Oh." So at some point, he expected she'd come back. "Do you want to order in or explore the neighbourhood?" she asked, walking into the room, more shaken by the revelation that she was ready to admit.

He sat back in his chair and crossed his legs. "We'll do as you please," he said matter-of-factly, watching her fidgeting with her makeup bag. "It's your day off. Still, I do have some last minute Christmas errands to run."

She dropped her purse and half its content scattered on the floor. Christmas, oh god, this wasn't happening. She might have reached out to her inner Florence Nightingale for Derek but she had clearly lost a part of her brain in the process. "What is the day today?"

"Sunday, obviously."

"December 23?"

"Darling, what's wrong? Don't you remember the cast is having a bloody Christmas party tomorrow before the show? It seems that nobody actually cares that it messes with my rehearsing schedule."

"My parents," she winced, squatting to gather her things.

"Your parents?"

"My parents are coming in today," she explained, shoving back her stuff into her bag haphazardly. "I can't go shopping with you, I have to go to the airport."

"Don't be disappointed love, we can go shopping anytime," he grinned. "It doesn't have to be Christmas," he said holding out his hand.

She walked up to him and sat on his lap like it was the most natural thing. His raised eyebrows revealed his surprise but he barely flinched. He snaked his arms around her waist instead. She ran her fingers through his hair absently, staring at his face without seeing him. "I totally forgot to book them a room." She shook her head in disbelief. Her hands fell down on his chest.

"I told you this extra room will come in handy, darling," he kept smiling. "And no worries, I'll drive you to the airport," he volunteered, his hand going up and down her back.

"You don't even have a car," she said pointedly.

"We can take a cab."

"So it's your conception of driving me to the airport?"

"It is," he grinned. "Who needs a car anyway? Come on Karen, it'll be fun."

"Fun?"

"The way I see it, we'll have a pleasant drive, I get to meet your parents, and I can even do some shopping at the airport. Two birds with one stone."

"That's three birds actually," she giggled nervously, running her fingers over his stubble. They lingered on the corner of his mouth.

He gently stroked her thigh. "What are we doing, love?" he asked, moving his hand tantalizingly up her thigh.

"I thought you were famished," she teased him sheepishly, averting her eyes. She squeezed his hand. "Why didn't you wake me up last night?"

"You needed the sleep."

"You could have stayed," she whispered, her cheeks burning.

"You needed the sleep," he said again, his eyes darkening. He inhaled sharply and leaned back. His arms fell limply on his sides.

"Seriously, Derek, what's the hold up?" Her hands cupped his face but she kept him at arm's length. "You were right last night. Everybody thinks we're sleeping together already."

"So, you were listening."

"Derek…"

Abruptly, he leaned in as if to kiss her. She hovered over him smiling. "Please, don't make me beg again."

"You sure you won't be having second thoughts? You do know my reputation. Say no and I'll stop."

"Don't."


	20. Chicago Part 1

_i must apologize, it took me like a forever to update this. please be gentle :) again, thanks to everyone for the great feedback and support!_

_**I still don't own SMASH**_

-o-

**CHICAGO PART 1**

Before she knew it, her parents had come and gone in the midst of whatever happened with Derek on that Sunday afternoon. Her timing sucked.

It should have been quite simple really. Girl wants boy, boy wants girl, girl gets boy. It was a no-brainer. It was not her style, but she needed to get him out of her system, and it was the only way she knew how. But instead of the intended result, she was left with an alternative, either it was a one time thing or she had inadvertently managed to get caught into something else entirely.

For the latter, not only was it too soon after Dev, but it was merely wishful thinking, and she knew it. Derek wasn't the committing type and she had no intention of turning into the next Ivy or the next Rebecca. They were both consenting adults. Theoretically, they'll put these four hours and some into the friends with benefit category and simply move on with their separate lives. She had not anticipated she'd want more.

Boosted by an insignificant flight schedule, the sex had been spectacular. Now wonder she was having second thoughts. Ivy's antics during the workshop were a lie. Clearly, there was absolutely nothing wrong with him in the bedroom department. Against all odds, he was tender, loving, and oddly affectionate, totally different from the Derek she knew. Was it his meds that affected his mood or was it the real Derek, a gentle soul hidden behind thick walls of pretence? Obviously, however deep she'd buried the feeling, she was not over her initial infatuation, hence a dilemma she hadn't foreseen.

Oh, grow up, it was just sex! she pondered. Except that it doesn't qualify as such when you end up sleeping with someone you consider a friend, unless you're wasted or seventeen and she was neither. Unwanted memories of that 'private session' flooded into her head. What exactly happened that night in his apartment before the last call-back? After all, she remembered resenting him a lot more than necessary when she had found out he was having an affair with Ivy.

She needed some alone time to put her steamy afternoon into perspective without him tagging along and cooing her folks. His father would be suspicious and her mother, where to start? Long story short, she'll know instantly that something was going on between them. Not the crazy sex and her incredible realisation that Derek was probably more important to her than she was willing to admit, but she'd know and Karen will never see the end of it.

So she called a cab and left a sulking Derek at the hotel, rushing through the foyer under the impression that they were front page news. Her body felt strangely light, her mind nimble, and she couldn't wipe a goofy smile off her face.

Fortunately, her parents were too tired to notice her exhilaration or they put it down to the excitement of being the new lead of 'Bombshell'. She was certainly allowed to act delirious now that she had the unique chance of actually being Marilyn, even if she would probably never make it to Broadway, should Eileen have her say.

She found an affordable hotel for their two nights in town, treated them with a nice dinner in the evening and went back to her hotel room without calling Derek. He didn't call her either and it upset her. She was planning to keep her parents in tow for the rest of their time together to avoid an uncomfortable or embarrassing confrontation with Derek. On Christmas Eve, they were due for a very last preview in Pittsburgh. Her parents stuck around for the rehearsal and they briefly met Derek during the improvised Christmas party.

"What a nice man, Karen," said her mother afterwards, eliciting some rolling of eyes from the cast after the ever polite Derek exchanged some harmless pleasantries with her father and kissed her mother's hand. "And such a gentleman! What is it with those British guys? At least, he's nothing like Dev, I say good riddance, sweet pea," she added, patting her hand, obviously fishing for some information.

Karen was blushing the whole time though her eyes never actually met Derek's, she simply couldn't help it. Graphic images kept popping in her head at the most inconvenient moments. Her secret afternoon with Wills didn't seem as romantic as it had the day before though. She should have known better than to sleep with him in the first place. Not that she had been the typical ice queen since they met, but at least, she had managed to keep him in check for months. Why all the fuss to finally fall into bed with him, that was a stupid, stupid idea.

If he showed some disappointment when she left him to go to the airport, she still had no idea in what place they were now. For some reason, getting rid of the elephant in the room didn't make things simpler. She felt even more confused when he was around, and, for god's sake, he was around all the time.

She was left with withdrawal symptoms which significantly exceeded the few hours they had spent together. She wasn't prepared to face feelings of loss and emptiness. Worse, she had no idea where to start to get rid of them. The only way to alleviate her symptoms would be to sleep with him again. But she wouldn't. It was supposed to be a one time thing. Except that it didn't work, she thought with a frown, observing him from across the stage.

Her parents raved about her performance and flied back to Iowa on Christmas day. The production was done with Pittsburgh, their next stop was Chicago. It meant a ten hour train ride with the rest of the cast or a flying trip she could not afford. She had to save every single cent for her new apartment in New York.

There was no way she was going to let anyone pay for her plane ticket so she stayed as far away of Derek as possible. Their train was at ten, and Jessica and Sue were already gone. They had been giggling all morning about everything and she was glad to be on her own, -at last. She couldn't hear herself think with them around. She stuffed the rest of her things inside her suitcase and her eyes fanned the room one last time. So that was it. Their weeks in Boston and Pittsburgh had gone by in a flash. She was so tired that she had no idea how she would ever be able to catch up on her sleep. And it was only the beginning.

Her heart sank when she realized it was the first Christmas ever she'll have to spend alone. Of course, she wouldn't be alone per se. She'll be on a train with the rest of the cast. But with her parents gone, Derek was the only one whose company she craved. What was wrong with her? He probably totally shoved their little afternoon into his I-must-shag-every-Marilyn compartment. She couldn't tell anybody because he was still in the 'Ivy zone' for most of them. She couldn't talk about it to her already smitten mother and what was it to talk about? She will not have an affair with her bloody brilliant director. And she wasn't about to discuss her latest nookie with her mother anyway. Boy, she missed her hometown friends.

-o-

Barely off the plane, Derek had to re-think the entire blocking for their new home in Chicago. The Oriental Theatre stage was definitely larger and wider. He had no doubt he could do it with a blindfold on his eyes and his hands tied behind his back but to get the cast ready before their next show was another matter entirely. Obviously, there was no rehearsal scheduled today since the whole cast had to spend their Christmas day on the train. They were probably getting smashed and exchanging gifts right now. That would leave them with a hangover and only two rehearsals to memorize the new blocking before their first preview in the Windy City.

While Linda was busy with the paraphernalia of the set and costumes which by chance had been delivered on time straight from the airport, he set up his laptop at the top of the orchestra floor, buried himself into his work, and rapidly lost track of time.

The initial racket eventually subsided to a faint rustle, punctuated by some intermittent vibrant chatter echoing inside the wings. From time to time, someone would pop up on stage and check on him to make sure he didn't need anything. For crying out loud, he didn't need anything, if only they could understand he needed to be left alone! Instead of making a scene, he would merely shake his head and dismiss them all. After a while, a peaceful silence set in inside the theatre, and not even Julia was bold enough to make any attempt to distract him from his work.

When he heard timid footsteps approaching, "Oh, for God's sake, stop waddling around, what is it now?" he bellowed without bothering to glance up.

"I thought I'll save you some food from our Christmas dinner," said Karen.

His head shot up and he stared, momentarily at a loss for words. She was wearing a coat he'd seen Duvall wear. She was holding two plastic cups, and from what he could muster, a cheap bottle of Champagne, and a small crumpled brown bag.

"Karen!" he said in his usual mocking tone, "what a pleasant surprise." She winced but walked on bravely anyway and sat beside him, leaving an empty seat between them.

"I can go," she said in a low voice.

God, she wasn't going to cry now, he thought, watching her mouth quiver. He took her hand and kissed the tip of her fingers. "That is very thoughtful of you, love, but I still have work to do."

She jumped from her seat and nodded, her eyes wild. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you."

He shook his head and sighed. "You don't. You rarely do, darling, please, sit," he said gently, patting the seat beside him. She was hesitating now, he could see it, the thought that she could still be afraid of him was disturbing. "Please," he insisted. He realized they had not exchanged a word since the weekend. Are we doing this now, he thought, bracing himself against the possibility she'd want to talk. Women always seemed to have the innate ability to spoil a perfectly great moment with useless words. He sighed inwardly, waiting for her to make up her mind. Her face an open book, she looked as if she was on the verge of running away but she finally sat down, her body rigid, her eyes now wide and shiny. Boy, she was a wreck. He knew she was strong though under her apparent emotional fragility, and would give him another stellar performance when need be. He stroke her hand in a futile attempt to assuage her fears, "What have you got here?" The sooner he'll get it over with the better, he pondered. After all, he could indulge her by sipping some of her tepid Champagne, and nibble on some awful foie gras on a cold toast. His stomach churned in anticipation. His mouth twitched. Strangely, he was glad she came. He took the cups from her and placed the bottle on his lap.

She handed him the brown bag. She grinned sheepishly. "Happy Christmas Derek," she said.

He leaned back on his seat and opened the bag. He retrieved a Smarties tube and a chocolate chip cookie. "Do you eat the red ones last?" he whispered. He tilted his head. "How did you know?"

"I have my sources," she chuckled but her face fell when he frowned. "Oh, you don't like it…"

"It's perfect darling, thank you, I'm just tired I guess."

She relaxed and beamed. "Yeah, tell me about it," her voice cheerful, "the train was awful."

"Where is everybody?"

"At the hotel, unpacking or comatose. They'll sleep it off eventually," she added, shrugging her shoulders.

"Karen, I'm sorry we didn't…"

"Another apology?" she chirped. "Say no more. I'm going. I imagine you don't want to talk about it and as a matter of fact, I don't want either. What we had…" she paused, "… what we had, well it was a pleasant surprise. I think we should leave it at that."

Again, Derek was at a loss for anything else to add. He couldn't fathom female minds, nothing new, but he didn't forebode the sting. He simply nodded. "Your parents were surprisingly refreshing," he said noncommittally, "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I was glad we could meet at last."

"Really? My mother can be overbearing but she's a darling," Karen confirmed with a smile. "And my father said you are a good man."

"Appearances can be deceitful," he smirked.

She chuckled and moved about on her seat. "Well, I should get going," she said, fidgeting with her bag. "I don't want to interfere with your creative process, and I don't have it in me to help you," she said with a deadpan face.

"Oh, she has claws," he smiled. "Who would have known, indeed."

"I'll see you for rehearsal Derek, I need some rest."

Before he could filter his thoughts, "Would you rest with me darling?" he asked.


	21. Chicago Part 2

_I know it has been a long while since I updated this one. To be perfectly honest I had to read the entire thing to remember what I was up to… and yet, I'm not sure... i also changed the properties to M, to be on the safe side...  
_

_thanks again for all the feedback and support! You know who you are ;)_

_**I still don't own SMASH**_

_**-o-**_

**CHICAGO PART 2**

Breathing heavily, Derek propped himself up on the elbows and brushed aside the locks of hair stuck on Karen's forehead. He cocked his head and smiled. Eyes closed, she sighed with contentment and stretched her arms. His smile widened. He placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. "I do like to rest with you," he grinned.

"Holy crap," she uttered back between her teeth, lying spread-eagled, her chest still heaving. She opened her eyes and found herself staring. She liked what she saw. So much for solving the Derek problem. Sleeping with Derek was definitely not a one time thing, it was beginning to fall into a pattern.

"Holy crap?" he chuckled. "Really Ms Cartwright, should I be offended?" She gently punched him in the shoulder, her hand lazily stroking his neck. "I guess not," he said smugly.

Embarrassed, "You're too heavy," she protested halfheartily, nudging him away.

He flopped beside her on the bed, lacing his fingers with hers and leaning on his side to get a better view. She was glowing. "Breakfast?"

"Breakfast? It's way too early," she complained, sitting up. She covered herself in a swift move with the sheet that lay in a crumpled heap at the end of the bed. She grabbed her phone, and checked the screen. Her face fell. Three missed calls, four voice mails, and too many text messages. "Holy crap," she said again.

"Really?"

"Not you, people have been trying to reach me… a lot," she apologized. She frowned, her forefinger rapidly brushing the screen. "Jessica, Bobby, Jessica… Crap, crap, crap."

"Is there a problem here?" Even a deaf man could have heard he was annoyed. "You understand you don't owe them any explanation."

She shook her head, "I… I know I don't," she finally said, "but they don't know, and I'd like to keep it this way."

"A secret affair," he mused, his thumb stroking the inside of her palm. "You're quite the romantic," he teased her.

"An affair, is it what we have?"

He froze. It wasn't new, he always had trouble keeping his thought filters in place when he was with her. Before he had time to think, "Do you want it to be?" he asked tentatively. Great! What's wrong with you Wills, don't you have enough problems with Ivy and that damned play as it is without bedding, again, the new leading lady? On the other hand, he wasn't used to reject gorgeous women especially when they threw herselves at him repeatedly. And Karen was indeed gorgeous, and he never made a secret he had been attracted to her from the start.

She shook her head again. Her curls hid her face and he couldn't tell whether it was a yes or a no. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and just sat there, staring at her naked feet flat on the floor, with her head dropped on her chest. "Are you playing with me? Is it one of your mind games?" she asked after a pregnant pause, her voice barely a whisper.

He crawled towards her. He nuzzled up against her back, and his hand wandered to her waist. "Oh darling," he kissed her shoulder, resting his chin against her neck. "Why would I do that? We're having some armless fun, why spoil a perfectly good arrangement?"

She jumped from the bed and faced him, her eyes wide, her hands cupping her breasts. "An arrangement?"

The frightened bird is back with a vengeance, he thought, more distressed that he was willing to admit. Why is she so highly strung? She should know she could trust me now.

"I mean…"

"I have to go," she said without moving an inch. "It was a mistake."

He kneeled up on the bed and grabbed her arms. "Darling, you're not going anywhere, it's four in the morning," he tried to reason with her. "It's freezing outside, you'll catch your death," he protested with a half smile, trying to lighten her mood.

"And you won't permit that for the sake of your darn show," she spat. "I get it Derek."

He heard the echo of a plaintive Marilyn begging for attention and love in her voice. For some reason, it made him cringe. There was no way 'Bombshell' would invade his privacy. Not this time. And yet, "Don't be daft. You do understand what I mean. And you're not leaving."

Her eyes widened even more and she recoiled, shaking her head in disbelief. He winced. Why was it so difficult to say the right thing?

"Do you plan to restrain me?"

This time, he didn't bother to hide a wolfish smile that made her blush. "Would you like that?" He pulled her gently towards him.

Her mouth twitched. "No, I certainly wouldn't!"

He started to kiss a trail on her flat stomach and he stopped at her navel, his tongue eliciting a shiver down her spine. She threw back her head and moaned. "Don't, I really must go…"

With a wicked smile, he replaced her hands by his and cupped her breasts, lowering his head to suck her nipple inside his mouth. She grabbed his head with both hands. "Please, stop," she begged.

He looked up, and his eyes darkened as he slid his hand slowly between her legs, moving his mouth to her throat. Her pulse quickened and she breathed in sharply. Her hands ploughed in his unruly hair and she tucked his head up. Her lips quivered and he stopped moving. As far as he could tell, he stopped breathing as well. Her eyes were wide and shiny, her face shifting emotion until it settled to a rigid stare. His arms fell limp at his sides. "Oh, I'm sorry love," he whispered. "If you want to leave, I'll call you a cab and take you back to your hotel."

She bit her lips and shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Oh, Derek, please, don't be mad, I…" she paused, "It's not your fault, I'm a mess, I don't know what I'm doing." She gazed at him, lost in his green eyes now tinged with concern. "Please," she said again before her mouth crashed onto his.

-o-

Karen was seated on a bench, massaging her right foot, her left leg dangling. It had been a strenuous morning, she was tired, she was distracted, and she felt like the ultimate underdog. Her eyes darted to the stage. Derek was his usual self, arrogant, demanding, mercurial. No one could have guessed he barely slept three hours. She wouldn't like being Linda right this moment. Derek was hyperactive this morning, and in no mood to put up with anyone's arguing, even though his faithful co-worker was right.

The dancers exchanged meaningful looks. "And when I thought we'd been through the worse already," Bobby whispered. "It's tech act 2." His eyes met Karen's and he waddled towards her with the most innocent expression on his face. "You look like shit," he stated.

"Oh, thanks Bobby, so considerate!"

He dropped at her feet, and took a dramatic pose. "Come on, beautiful, spill. Where did you spend the night? And who's the lucky guy?" he pouted.

Jessica patted him on the shoulder. "Leave her alone, you and your stupid bets."

Bobby's attention went back to Derek who was now pacing the stage, punctuating his directives with various inventive British colloquialisms and driving everybody in the crew crazy. "Boy, does he need to get laid," he sighed. "Too bad we don't play for the same team, I would have put him out of his misery," he said dreamingly, cocking his head to get a better scope of the director's back.

"Is it what he needs now?" Karen chuckled.

Bobby gave her his full attention back. "Or maybe YOU should put him out of his misery…" he continued, unfazed, "… or maybe you did, and here is the pathetic result of your intervention. Come on Iowa, you're supposed to make us proud not cause more problems! We've had enough as it is!"

"Bobby, are you for real?" Jessica giggled. "But he's right Karen, where were you last night, I was really worried. You can't pull a Houdini on us like that on Christmas day!"

"What can I say, I was with Derek," she stated cheerily with a goofy smile, waving her hand to the stage. She plastered a grin on her face and held her breath.

"Oh stop it, I was really worried. You didn't even answer your phone, you weren't at the hotel…"

Karen propped her arms on her knee and extended her fingers, counting, "Well… Let me think. I called my folks," [true, even if they were not in and she left them a ten second message on their voice mail], "I found a theatre that plays 'It's a Wonderful Life'," [true, technically I went there, sat for ten minutes before my resolve wavered], "I had an eggnog [true, I needed it before going to the theatre, and ultimately throw myself, -again, at Derek] and that's about it. I guess you were all asleep when I got back. I saved you some popcorn if you want it," she chuckled for good measure. "I confess it didn't feel very Christmassy…" She shrugged her shoulders and went back to massaging her other foot. "But you're right," she added, glancing to the stage, "he's in overdrive this morning. Did I really miss my entrance for 'Wolf'?"

"Of course not sweetie, you were puuuurrrrfect," Bobby clawed her seat, and rolled his eyes. "He's just a doddering old fart!"

The two girls burst out laughing, and ducked before being found out.

"Karen, where is Karen Cartwright?" Derek bellowed. His voice echoed in the theatre. "So much for keeping a low profile Iowa. Sorry," whispered Bobby who scurried away on his hands and knees.

"Here, I'm here," Karen stood up and waved her hand. "Where do you need me?"

"Lunch darling, come on, I need you for lunch, it's only a one hour break, chop, chop!" Karen felt like a three ton brick wall had fallen on her head. If she wanted their "arrangement" to stay secret, he was apparently having none of it.

"Seriously Karen, you were with the Dark Lord last night?" Jessica whispered. "Lunch, that's what he calls it? He never had lunch with Ivy when they were 'together'," she air quoted. "God, I'm going to kill you, if Tom or Ivy doesn't catch you first!"


End file.
